


if heaven's grief brings hell's rains (then i'd trade all my tomorrows)

by kickthemhardenough (danaleighbee)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Separated Twins, Twin Trevelyan AU, Twins, Warnings May Change, will add more tags as this is written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danaleighbee/pseuds/kickthemhardenough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damien Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, is not an only child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first attempt at a published work for the first time in seven years. I'm a novice writer, but I found myself captivated by the idea of twin Trevelyans. I don't know how frequent I will update this, but I hope to post more as I actually get through Inquisition. 
> 
> Warnings for non-graphic depiction of a guy getting set on fire. Also non-consensual use of a drug on a minor.
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own. Title is from Just One Yesterday by FoB.

The Trevelyans of Ostwick were a noble family bred from consistent remarkable marriage matches and wondrous luck. When Marcus Trevelyan married the love of his life, Lady Bristol of Kirkwall, he knew that he would never be sad again. Many of the other newly wedded couples wished them the best and brightest, while being envious of what the two had.

Years passed and their bond remained strong, and the couple still deeply in love. However, an overcast started to form over their contentment. They had been trying for years for children, not only to produce an heir to the Trevelyan name, but because the two of them so dearly wanted to start a family of their own; to raise happy and beautiful children in their estate and to watch them grow and come into their own. Nearly a decade later, and Lady Bristol Trevelyan began to lose hope. She did not see her friends so often anymore, and her body seemed to weigh her down despite her loss in weight. Marcus did what he could to lift his lady’s spirit, but for a time it seemed for naught.

Then, near the end of Drakonis, the Maker shined his light upon the despairing couple – Lady Bristol became pregnant, and the Trevelyans hosted the biggest celebratory party in decades.

On Satinalia, during the festivities throughout the Ostwick streets, Bristol Trevelyan was giving birth to a son. Yet, not a few moments after the grueling and painful birth of her first child, the midwife encouraged Lady Trevelyan to continue to push as she had _another_ child within her, later determined to be a beautiful baby girl.

Superstition lead many nobles to believe that twins were a sign of ill luck. When one lived a life where the first born is to claim the inheritance from their parents, having children born at the same time – especially when they are both male – causes a rift not only between the children, but between the later born child and their parents as well.

The Trevelyans, however, had never felt more blessed in their entire lives. They named their two children Damien and Raleigh, for the siblings their father lost in his childhood to a sickness that had swept through Ostwick like a cruel, unforgiving storm. The two children were the light of their parents’ lives; they were the saving graces in a dark time. Bristol Trevelyan wouldn’t let the wet nurse or any of the servants near her children, for she loved them and had waited long enough for them to come into the world. Marcus loved each day in renewal, for when he came home from the forum he was greeted by the sight of his beautiful wife and their two miracle children - and nothing could make his life any better.

The twins grew up as close as siblings could be. Damien and Raleigh Trevelyan were bright, curious and loved to explore the woods behind their family’s estate. They had adventures together, ate together, pranked the servants together and even slept in the same bed together after it was no longer permitted, given that the servants weren’t very keen on the idea of separating the two most darling siblings in the Free Marches. Damien would braid his sister’s long, dark hair and she would play his favorite lullaby’s on the piano in the parlor. While young Raleigh Trevelyan had a gift for musi, her brother had a gift for sneaking about and retrieving desserts from the kitchen without being caught (most of the time). They seemed to be true idols of what all noble children should be: polite, talented and adorable.

And then the damn broke a few days after their eighth name day.

“Hurry, Damien! I see some elfroot over here!” Raleigh called out to her brother as she rushed to the plant to pick it. They were gathering herbs their family’s healer needed so he wouldn’t have to spend the money in the market, and they loved to lope about the woods while doing so. They were high-energy children and loved to make-believe and run about until they were exhausted, yet tiredness never seemed to dull their endless river of questions about absolutely everything.

“Hold on! This embrium is not being very nice!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so delicate with it, we’d have made it to the river by now!”

“I’ll show you delicate, you brat!”

“Only if you can catch me!” And with that, their herb-picking turned into a game of tag. Raleigh quickly hid behind the trunk of a thick tree, dark whiskey eyes glancing about quickly to see if her brother was anywhere near. She snuck over to the elfroot plant and began to take what she needed, briefly distracted while her brother came up from behind her.

“Boo!” He shouted, lips so close to his sister’s ear as she shrieked and dropped the basket she’d been carrying.

The shriek was more from the fire that had shot from her hand than her brother trying to be a wannabe assassin.

“Raleigh!” Damien quickly took his sister by the shoulders and brought her physically against him, away from the now burning plant that smoked lightly from the flames. The twins were both shaking, not quite sure exactly what had happened. Not entirely realizing what this single incident would mean. They sat there, in the woods behind their home, the only noise coming from the faint wildlife nearby and the light hissing of the plant quickly turning to ash.

“ _I’m a mage_ ,” the girl whispered minutes later, her voice aching with sadness and disbelief. Her hand didn’t burn from the flame, but she felt her face warm and the tears river down her freckled cheeks. "They’re going to take me away. The Templars will come and they’ll drag me to the Circle.” She grasped her brother’s arms that held her with shaking hands, staring absently into the tiny fire that spelled doom for her future. She could feel the tremors of her brother’s body as he tightened his grip about her, his head adamantly shaking and quiet mutters of ‘no’ escaping him.

“No no no. You’re _not_ a mage, you’re _not!_ This can’t be, sister. It j-just _can’t_.” Damien, oddly enough, was the more emotional of the two and his voice cracked with the deep sorrow he felt. They were both educated children, and they weren’t ignorant of the world around them. They knew about mages and circles and Templars, and the general disdain of those born with magic. Raleigh’s single action was enough to rip away any future she might have imagined for herself, a future her parents wanted for her. The freedom to roam, to love, to marry… the simple freedom of being able to see her family every morning when she woke.

It would be traded for cold, unforgiving walls and constant vigilance of her every moment.

She turned in her brother’s arms and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight and her face hidden in his mop of obsidian curls. “I have to go, brother. It’s the law.” She hugged him tighter as his crying turned to hideous sobs that wracked his thin adolescent frame, hands clutching the back of her favorite dress with white knuckles.

The two stayed like that, for a while. Damien sobbing as his heart shattered, and Raleigh holding onto her brother like she was holding both their hearts together, to keep from dropping the pieces to the ground.

A little more time passed, and slowly but surely Damien’s sobs quieted to choked sniffles, his cheeks and eyes red from the stress. Raleigh had stopped crying some time before, her head resting on her arm that was still about her brother’s neck. They were scared and tired and unsure of what to do with themselves.

Damien gently loosened the hug, taking his sister’s arms in his hands and looking into her eyes that matched his own in exact size and color. He didn’t care for the varying trails of tears and snot that smeared down his face, but he had a look of fear and distant hope raked across his features.

“You have to hide it, 'leigh. Hide your magic for as long as possible. They can’t take you away _if they don’t know you have it_.” He begged, hands shaking with the very thought of losing his only siblings to the Templars, losing her to the Circle where he would be forbidden from seeing her – from even _writing_ her. He watched her blink slowly, letting the information sink before her eyebrows scrunched down in a look of confusion.

“You can’t _hide_ it, ‘ien. And even if I could, if the Templars ever found out I’d be in even _more_ trouble, maybe enough to get you, mother and father in trouble. You know what they do to families that hide mages… and that can’t happen to you. I won’t let that happen.”

“At least _try_ , sister? Please? If they take you away, I’ll be alone. I can’t grow up without my sister at my side, helping me steal cakes and sweet rolls when the kitchen staff are too busy to notice. We have lots to learn and friends to make and don’t you want to get married? You can’t marry in the Circle.” Damien took in a deep breath, tears one again threatening to fall over thick lashes. “If you go, I won’t see you ever again. Please, don’t leave me alone. _Please_.” He let his forehead touch her shoulders as a fresh wave of sobs took him. Raleigh gently ran her fingers through her brother’s thick locks, her own tears kept at bay as best she could. She knew what it all meant, what it would entail. She wanted so much to give her brother what he wanted… but she knew in her heart it would never work. No mage born to a non-mage family ever escaped the grasp of the Templars.

But she knew she had to try – for Damien, her brother, her only sibling.

“Okay, brother. I’ll try. But, if it doesn’t work, you can’t let them know that you know. Promise me that you won’t say anything. Pinky promise.” Damien looked up with eyes still crying, lower lip trembling as he nodded. He took a small, shivering hand and held up his smallest finger, his sister taking it with her own.

“ _Thank you_.”

Their voices were indistinguishable from one another as they sat in the forest and clung to one another, fear and hope settled deeply in their bones.

* * *

Their combined efforts bought them two years.

The siblings spent much time in the woods after the incident, which wasn’t unusual to their parents or the servants that called the estate home. They had to go further from the safety of the estate and they came back with more bruises than before, but the adults wrote it off as childhood playing and didn’t pay it much mind. In actuality, Damien had been encouraging his sister to control her magic so that she could better hide it from everyone else. They’d gone to the river almost every day for months following the realization, to easily extinguish any stray fires the young mage may have started.

It worked, for a time. Raleigh showed impeccable control over her magical abilities, and their chests seemed to breathe a little easier with each passing day. Things were going so well, until The Night.

All was quiet in the Trevelyan estate, as it was throughout the entire city. It was late and all of the inhabitants were asleep, with Raleigh having snuck into her brother’s room to sleep beside him, as was tradition. They had been forbidden from sleeping in the same bed after their seventh name day, but the servants who checked on them late at night never made them separate, and their parents knew but said nothing about it. They were still children, after all, so they let it continue unknowingly to keep up appearances of ignorance.

An odd creaking had Raleigh opening her eyes slowly as they adjusted to the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the double-glass doors that led out to the balcony. Her brother had hidden his face in her shoulder, so the girl moved as gently as she could as to not wake him. When her bare feet touched the floor, the door to her brother’s room slowly opened, silent. She watched as three men entered the room, stopping when they realized a young girl was staring back at them with wide, frightened eyes.

“Maker’s balls – what’s the girl doing in here?” one of the thieves whispered to his compatriots, faces hidden by their cowls. “She’s not supposed to be in here, dammit.”

“We weren’t paid to make sure she was in her room, you fucking blighter.” Paid? These men were paid to break into her family’s home? The second man made a motion, the glint of steel catching her eyes as realization dawned on her.

“Grab the girl, then, too. We can dump her in the woods and take her brother to the Boss for the exchange. She’s not the one we need.” The final man said, his words slicing into her core like hail from a storm. They were here to _take her brother_.

And they were going to kill her in the process.

“ _NO!_ ” She suddenly shouted, fully standing to her unimpressive height, her scream waking her brother with a yell of his own, and hopefully loud enough to wake her parents and servants who were down the hall. The thieves jumped, but it only took them a split second to regroup. One stayed by the door as the other two moved in – the last man who had spoken scooping her up like a rag doll as the other man made for her brother. Damien screamed as the thief slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams, and both the twins were squirming in their captor’s grips.

They were going to kill her and take her brother they were going tokillherandtakeher _brother_ -

She couldn’t let that happen.

Raleigh felt the familiar heat rising to her palms as she continued to struggle in the robber’s grasp. The man had only a moment to realize what was happening before Raleigh shrieked and released an outburst of flames from her palms that were as wide as she was tall. The flames were bright enough to enlighten the entire room and the young mage watched as the man’s leathers and cloth caught fire from her hands. He dropped her to the floor as his pained screams seemed to fill the entire house, his body quickly being engulfed by the fire that had been brought forth from the girl. His screams sounded of agony and pain and Raleigh couldn’t look away from what she had done, entranced by the magic as it danced about in her vision. She had set a man on fire, and it was killing him. _She was killing another human being_.

This was why mages were feared.

Time seemed slow as the other thief who had grabbed his brother dropped him back on the bed before darting around the enflamed man and escaping with the third thief. Fortunately, their father had been standing at the ready with their stableman and they took out the thieves before they could escape.  

Raleigh sat on her hands and knees as she watched the fire progress quickly, sparing no inch of the man who had come to take her brother for some other cruel man, who would have ditched her body in an abandoned forest for the animals to pick at and consume. She didn’t feel her brother at her side, shaking her fiercely to try and bring her out of her trance. She couldn’t hear her brother’s voice, franticly calling her name with vigor and fear.

She continued to watch until the man's last guttural scream and his body collapsed to the ground in a grotesque _thud_. She saw the last of the flames lick at his corpse before flickering out just as soon as it had shot out of her palms.

The room was silent. All parties were quiet, trying to take in what had just occurred. Raleigh had just watched a man die. She, a young girl only just passed her tenth name day, had burned a man to death in her own home.

All she could think of was that she hated the smell of burnt flesh.

“ _-leigh. Raleigh. Raleigh!_ RALEIGH!” Damien’s panicked screams finally seemed to break through the muddied state of her mind, like coming back up from air after being underwater in the lake beside their home. Raleigh motioned her head towards her twin, their matching eyes meeting in a mix of shock and exasperation. Damien let out a choked sob as he gripped her arm tightly. All he whispered was her name, over and over again as he cried.

“ _I killed him_.” Raleigh whispered in broken disbelief, her actions finally seeping into her mind. Her eyes started to blink rapidly as the tears started to form. She vaguely recognized other people entering the room, talking in raised voices. Voices calling _Raleigh_ and _Damien_ and _let me see my children_ and _someone has to tell the Templars._ She couldn’t hear any of it as she started to break down. “T-they were going to _take you_ , ‘ien. I couldn’t let them t-take you! But I didn’t mean to _kill_ him! I promise! I d-didn’t!” she started to full-heartedly sob as she moved forward to hug her brother. Hands placed themselves gently on her back, rubbing smoothing motions as she clung to her twin. Raleigh realized her father was at her back, his own pained voice calling to her softly, her mother’s broken wails resonating out in the hall as everything started to settle.

The Templars were coming to take her to the Circle. She was going to be taken from her family.

Her father took both of his kids into his arms, taking care to place them on her brother’s bed with the utmost gentle motions. Raleigh was held between the reassuring warmth of her father and her equally shaken-up brother, their mother drawing clumsily into the room to throw herself around her children and her husband, for the last time in their lifetime. Their happy little family was broken, and they didn’t know if they would ever recover.

Time seemed to stretch for a while, until the Templars arrived at the estate. Then time apparently quickened and they were having to _physically remove her_ shaking body from her wailing brother after stamping her a mage and commanding that she be taken to the Circle immediately for her safety and the safety of those around her. She kicked and screamed her brother’s name repeatedly, her mother sobbing in her father’s arms as an older Templar held her brother back while three other Templars subdued her with some strange liquid that smelled sweet but _too_ sweet and suddenly she felt… disquiet. She felt cut-off from her emotions, from the very feeling in her skin. Raleigh became still, compliant to the magebane now flowing through her body so they could transport her safely to the Circle. She watched her family through dulled eyes as she was carried bridal style out of her brother’s room, the room she slept in more often than not because she couldn’t sleep when she wasn’t next to her brother, without her parents just down the hall and the dogs in their kennels and the servants in their quarters.

They had drugged a child and took her limp body from her family, out of the only home she had known and out of her family’s life forever.

She couldn’t even remember making it through the front gates as her freedom was taken from her and she passed out in a stranger’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: the kind ones
> 
> i'm on tumblr! (cupycakefrosting)


	2. the kind ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows after the events of the previous chapter.
> 
> Ser Hoster is an original character, and I'm taking slight liberties with canon characters because this is roughly twenty years before the events of Inquisition (yes, this will eventually catch up with canon). 
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

In the aftermath of the Templars taking Raleigh to the Circle, the entirety of the estate were mourning and grieving. While some feared mages, they stilled stewed in the loss of the child who had been so bright, so lovely to be around.

The Trevelyans were grieving the hardest, as to be expected. They felt the loss as if the world had lost all the light and goodness the Maker had to offer, and had been replaced with nothing.

The Templar who had held Damien back as they took his sister’s limp body from his room had held him, the armor he wore cold and unyielding, but the man who wore it was whispering apologies and words of comfort that fell on deaf ears. Soon, he started repeating the Chant of Light as the boy’s sobs calmed and the air around them settled from the events of what just occurred. Damien didn’t want to be touched by this man, a man of the Order whose duty was to rip families apart at the seams and not look back, but this man was trying to soothe the seas of his sadness.

His sister was gone. There would be no more shared sleeping in his future.

The Templar continued his stream of memorized word, still holding the boy in a hug to keep him standing.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

_Though all before me is shadow,_

_Yet shall the Maker be my guide._

_I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond._

_For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light_

_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._

Time passed and people came to remove the thieves and the remains of their companion, the elder Trevelyans leaving the room to go speak with the authorities on what happened. Damien and the Templar were the only ones to remain after a time, the two finally separating and sitting upon his bed while Damien continued to sniffle lightly. He wiped at his face with shaking hands, feeling a hollowness in his chest that had yet to completely settle. Raleigh had only been gone for less than an hour, and it felt like a lifetime to the young boy.

“It is alright to mourn, child. Feel no shame for the Maker is here to saddle your sorrow and to help guide you to a better state of mind.” Damien looked up at the older man through blurry eyes, wiping the tear stains from his cheeks with a scoff.

“If the Maker really loved us he wouldn’t have taken my sister away. He wouldn’t have made it to where mages get taken from their families just for being born. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right.” His hands wrung themselves into tight fists as he thought of his sister’s unresponsive body in the arms of a man who didn’t care what happened to his sister. They put some weird stuff into her body and she went limp and they took her away. He didn’t even get to properly say goodbye.

“It is not the Maker who decides that mages should be removed from their families. The Chantry only takes mages so that they may learn to control their abilities in the safest environment for them and others. It is not ideal for anyone, but it has always been this way.”

“So if it’s so bad, why do people want to be a Templar? They get to choose who they are – mages are born and basically lose any freedom that any other normal person would have.”

“If it is any consolation, many are promised to the Order in infancy, and they too have no option in their fate. And yet many sign up of their own accord. Did you know that on average, the mages of the Circle don’t entirely hate their fate? Some even come to love the Circle, seeing it as a safe haven from those who would simply seek to end their life for who they are. The Circle is there for their protection as well as the protection of others.” Damien gave a stubborn grunt, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

“Who loves being locked away in a prison?”

“That, I cannot explain to you. You would have to ask a mage for their own outlook I suppose.”

Damien gave pause, looking up at the older man with wide, reddened eyes that throbbed from his headache. “I thought the Ostwick Circle was one of the nicer ones?”

“It is, comparatively. It is still a Circle, however.”

“Then why did they do that to Raleigh? Why were they so mean? What did they do to her? She didn’t do anything wrong – she was protecting me…” The Templar sighed, setting an arm across the lad’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. Damien curled into it, unsure why other than the man’s apparent kindness and patience with his wailing and questions.

“Had it been a different circumstance, one that didn’t end with that criminal’s death, they would have shown her more kindness as long as she didn’t resist. But seeing as her situation was a tad more volatile than most, they did what they felt they had to do in order to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else, intentionally or not. She is a young mage, untrained and under extreme duress – many innocent people have perished because of similar circumstances.”

“But what did they do to her? She went all limp and almost like she was dead except her eyes were open.”

“They gave her something called Magebane. It suppresses a mage’s connection to the Fade, and thus blocks them from their abilities. The side effects, unfortunately, have a tendency to do more than just that, and in children it’s more aggressive. I promise she’ll be perfectly alright as soon as it’s completely out of her system, but she’ll be groggy for at least the next day. If I were to be completely honest, they used too much Magebane and too much force in dealing with your sister. She seemed calm until the young soldiers started yelling and then it just got ridiculous. I will see that they are reprimanded for their actions, I assure you.”

The boy blinked up at him. “Who are you, anyhow? Why did you stay behind?” The Templar laughed softly, causing Damien even more confusion.

“Now we’re getting to the important questions.” Damien snorted. “That’s unbecoming of a young noble man, I’ll let you know. Regardless, my name is Ser Hoster, and I am a Senior Templar at the Ostwick Circle of Magi. I have been a Templar for a very long time, and I have been with the Ostwick Circle my entire service. I stayed behind because a single Templar always stays behind to explain what happens now after a mage is taken, gives warning and so on and so forth. If you have any other specific questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

It took the child a few moments, but he gave a small sigh before steeling himself for his question.

“Will I be able to see my sister, now that she’s gone?”

“Unfortunately, lad, you won’t be able to. The mage’s are banned from having visitors because of a situation that happened before you were even born, but the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter both decided it was for the best if the mages weren’t allowed visitors. Sadly, you won’t be able to write to her either, and for that I am truly sorry.” The Templar felt his heart squeeze as he saw the fresh tears gather in the boy’s eyes. He and the new mage apprentice were truly twins aside from their gender, and he knew he would not be able to look the mage girl in the eyes when all he would be able to see was this boy and his heartbroken expression.

Sigh. He was getting too old to be dealing with breaking children apart.

“Now, listen well. I am going to offer you something quite big – if any other member of my Order were to discover, I would be removed from the Order and they would do terrible things as consequences to you and your family, your sister especially. This must stay between us young man, do you understand?” Damien’s nodding was so harsh, Hoster thought the boy was going to lose his head. Maker, forgive him for his weak resolve. “I will agree to pass letters between you and your sister for as long as I am able. At the moment I am unable to tell you how often, but I swear to you on my honor as a Templar that you will be able to communicate with your sister. But you must tell no one, not even your parents. Is that understood, lad?”

“Yes, Ser Hoster – _thank you!_ ” the now hopeful boy quickly threw his arms about the man’s waist, his laugh sounding choked from the thickness in his throat.

He could only hope that this would work out for them all.

* * *

 

Raleigh’s first (conscious) day in the Ostwick Circle was not glamorous. Quite frankly, she had been dropped unconscious into a windowless room with an uncomfortable bed, locked in with the weird drug stuff in her system and staring mindlessly at the ceiling when she woke because she was literally unable to do anything else but that. She started regaining regular feeling in her extremities after a time, if her internal clock was anything to be trusted at this point.

After that, she was able to sit up and look at the ceiling. Improvement, by minimal, pissed-off mage-child standards.

A female Templar had unlocked the door to check on her, leaving her a tray of food that didn’t look half-bad on the bed beside her with two full goblets of water. The woman insisted that she eat all of the food that she could, to garner her strength, and the kindness made the child wary. Why were these giant jerks suddenly being nice to her? She did eat, however slowly, because she was starving and still feeling disconnected from the stuff they had forced on her.

A little while later after the tray had been picked clean and the water gone, the same Templar woman came back to retrieve it. She wouldn’t answer Raleigh’s queries about what was happening, simply shaking her head and closing the door behind her as she left.

And she was back to staring. At the floor, this time.

She had fallen asleep again when the creaking of the door woke her, and she darted up from her collapsed position on the bed to meet the gaze of a girl a few years older than her. The girl had dark skin and she looked at Raleigh with a quizzical tilt of her head.

“Aren’t you a little old to have come into your magic? Most of the mages who come in are a bit younger.” Raleigh bristled at the comment, but kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t let anyone know that she’d been practicing magic for years before she’d been found out. They would punish her for sure. Apostates were not taken likely by the Templars or the Chantry.

“What does it matter what age you are when get taken by complete strangers to some place you’ll never be able to leave?” she shout back, irritated and upset and missing her brother like a missing limb.

“Beyond the fact that the older you are when you come into your magic the harder it is to learn the basics and become accustom to the Circle, I suppose there isn’t.” The older girl slipped fully into her temporary quarters, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. “But I suppose it did seem like I was being cruel. My apologies, I didn’t mean for it to come out in such a way.”

“What are you even _doing_ here? You’re obviously not a Templar.”

“I’m here in secret, and we’ll both get into trouble if I’m found.” The other girl started, twisting her hands lightly in front of herself before remembering that she wasn’t alone and dropping them to her sides. “I’m actually here to thank you.” Raleigh’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Thank me? What did I do?”

“Because of your… special circumstances, they’ve allowed a few of the apprentices here to be transferred to Montsimmard in Orlais. Oswtick is a small Circle and with the new inclusion of such a spirited mage, the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter believe it to be most beneficial for the move. I am one of those apprentices, and so I came here to thank you for your timely arrival.”

“You want to be moved to a different Circle? But isn’t this your home?”

“Once you are a part of the Circle, you are from the Circle. Where you came from before is no longer important. And if you must know, I was from Wycome, but I’ve been in the Circle for four years now and I’m moving on to a more progressive Circle where I may be able to further flourish in my studies.”

“You like the Circle? How could you like being taken from your family? We don’t have any freedom.”

“When you get past the initial shock of being taken in by the Circle, you start to realize that it is for the better. We’re safer in here than we ever would be outside of these walls. People hunt apostates – mages not of the Circle – and they kill them like rabid dogs without a second thought. In here, we are able to come together and learn more about these gifts that we were born with, to develop and grow and be more knowledgeable and understanding. We may not be able to enjoy the trivial nuances of outside life like marriage or children, but those things are not a requirement of a fulfilling life.” The girl sighed, then giving the younger girl a small smile.

“You are fortunate that you were placed in this Circle, probably because of your former noble status. Ostwick is one of the calmest and laid-back Circles in Thedas; the Templars here aren’t cruel, and some could even be considered friendly. All the mages and apprentices here will be kind to you, will help you to learn so that nothing like what you went through happens again. I only ask that you open your mind to accepting the Circle as something more than a prison. It has so much potential to give you, if only you would allow yourself to welcome it. If you don’t,” she paused, biting her lower lip as she thought over what she wanted to say next. “The alternative to a life of guarded magic is not considered a life at all. If you want to know more, just speak to the Tranquil. You’ll see rather quickly that just abiding by the Circle’s regulations is the better option.”

The two girls stared at one another, before the older girl stepped forward and pat her on the head. “Things will get better, I promise. I must go before the Templars come, but I’ll say it again: _thank you_. I know you personally had nothing to do with this outcome, but I thank you with my whole heart all the same.”

“What’s your name? I know I probably won’t ever see you again, but you were kind to me and I would like to know the name of the first person I ever spoke to from the Circle.” The girl laughed lightly, squeezing Raleigh’s shoulder with surprising fondness before she stepped back towards the door.

“You never know, the Circles circulate mages on occasion. And my name is Vivienne.”

“I’m Raleigh, but you probably already knew that.” A nervous pause. “Does everyone else know what I did? That I… killed someone?”

“Don’t fret, dear. They are aware of the circumstances and no one will judge you for what you did. Now, I really must go.” She gave her a small wave as she opened the door. “Goodbye, Raleigh, may your time in the Circle bring you joy.”

“Goodbye, Vivienne.”

And then she was left alone once again.

* * *

 

Sometime after the older girl left, Raleigh found herself more aware of her surroundings, more aware of herself for the first time since before the kidnappers tried to take her brother away. She guessed that what was left of the weird stuff they gave her was finally gone, because she felt _whole_ again. She wondered when the next time someone would come see her would be, because she was growing quite restless in the small room in which she had nothing to pass the time outside of sleeping (which she was done with for a while considering they had drugged her and she has passed out for Maker knows how long).

The young mage didn’t have to wait long before the door opened once again. A woman in her thirties with pretty yellow hair put up in an ornate bun and smiling green eyes that seemed to radiate warmth and welcome had come to greet her. There was something odd about the woman, and after a moment she knew that that something was that she was a mage. Would she finally be able to leave the suffocating room now? To what end?

“Hello, Raleigh. I am Lydia, the First Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle. How are you feeling?”

“Better, but I would feel absolutely great if I didn’t have to be stuck in this stuffy room anymore.” The First Enchanter laughed freely at her bluntness, motioning for her to come forward.

“Well, that’s why I’m here love. We’re going to get you cleaned up, get you some robes and some other materials, then I’ll escort you to the apprentice wing and you’ll be able to meet the other apprentices that you’ll be living and studying with.” She held her hand out for the girl, the smile on her still charming face relaxing Raleigh more than she was expecting. Yet she still found herself unsure.

“Um, First Enchanter?”

“Yes, child.”

“Um…” she touched the hourglass pendent at her throat, uncertainty taking over. “Will I be able to keep my necklace? It was my tenth name day present, and my brother has a matching one but with sapphire dust instead of garnet and I know I can’t see him or my parents anymore but…” she trailed off, brown eyes filling up with tears when she remembered that she’d never be able to run through the woods or go swimming in the lake on their property with her twin, or sit by the fire tucked between her parents or listen to her mother’s soft lullabies. In that moment, she felt utterly alone. She felt ill.

“While it is against the rules for new members of the Circle to keep anything pertaining to their life before, we have been letting small things like jewelry slide because it seems to create an initial bond of trust between the Order and their charges, so, yes, you’ll be able to keep it. And should the chain break, you can go to one of the Senior Enchanters and they’ll make you a new one. Does that sound alright to you?” Raleigh nodded, quickly wiping away the tear that had managed to track down her cheek. “Let’s get you settled in, shall we?” Raleigh took the First Enchanter’s offered hand and followed her out of the small room, and she didn’t look back.

If she wanted to survive, she couldn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: first mentor, first friend
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting)


	3. first mentor, first friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firsts are important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, not taking over a week to post an update!! Except this probably isn't my best chapter, and it only introduces some more OCs that you may or may not see later in the story. I also have the following chapter already written, but it's an interlude and will be shorter. I'll post it after I've written the chapter after it (finally Inquisition!Damien!!).
> 
> This chapter introduces: Aduial, my Lavellan in this universe, Quinn and Trystan who are brothers, Quinn being the elder of the two. 
> 
> Beware of child angst? And children stealing (not the stealing of children, but children who steal). And I sincerely apologize for the crap that is this chapter.
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

The Ostwick Circle was not nearly as awful as Raleigh had first been led to believe. First Enchanter Lydia had gone well out of her way to try and make Raleigh’s transition into Circle life as painless as possible, allowing her to ask thousands of questions and being there with her when she was introduced to her fellow apprentices. The idea that she was surrounded by those who were like her – _mages_ , Maker have mercy – made the change easier to deal with, but she still missed her family and her previous life more than anything else.

The first night in the shared quarters, she’d attempted to stifle her cries but she had been unable to do so completely. A few of the older apprentices had left their own beds to join her in her bunk, asking her permission before crawling into the small girl’s bed and holding her while she cried for the life she no longer lived, for the parents who had prayed for ten years for children only to have one taken away by something that was considered a Maker-given gift, for her twin who she knew felt as hollow as she did. They cooed at her and whispered words she couldn’t remember, some even muttering verses from the Chant of Light. They’d stayed with her, tucking her back into bed with warm whispers as she finally managed to fall asleep.

The following weeks had been a trial, learning all the rules while going to lectures held by the Senior Mages of the Circle. She had been assigned so much reading in the first week she thought she’d never be able to see anything but small script again. They told her she wouldn’t be able to start her practical lessons until she was read up on all the proper material, and the idea of not being allowed to actually use what got her put here in the first place was almost enough to make her give up.

It didn’t go unnoticed how the First Enchanter seemed to take a special interest in Raleigh’s studies. There had been talk that Raleigh would be the First Enchanter’s pick for a new student, speculation falling away whenever the girl was in earshot. A few of the other apprentices seemed colder, but the others were content to help her with her readings and to show her the ropes of the towers. Even the Templars, especially the newest initiates, were pleasant and willing to help her make her way around the Circle’s premises. Ostwick Circle was based out of an old keep miles out from Ostwick’s boarder, and the separate wings were all dedicated to the different groups that resided there. Apprentices stayed in the North-most wing, the harrowed mages and Senior Enchanters in the wing to the east. The Templars stayed in the barracks, Knight-Commander Bryden maintained his office and quarters in the south wing and First Enchanter Lydia had the entirety of the west wing for herself.

It was all very confusing, despite growing up in a three-story estate. The layout was simpler, and obvious. The keep had stairwells that were crumbled and hallways that led to dead ends – Raleigh had lost her way on more than one occasion, and had more than her fair share of panic attacks because of it. The other apprentices had assured her that she would get the lay of the land in no time, but as time dragged she felt more and more insecure.

After three weeks in the Circle, a new mage was brought to them.

His name was Aduial, and he was a Dalish elf whose clan had been murdered by assassins for… some reason that didn’t warrant the death of nearly a hundred people. He refused to speak to anyone, and he snarled like an animal whenever the Templars had to move him about the keep, whether it was to take him to the solitary room or to the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter. Raleigh had asked Lydia why he was so angry, and the woman had given her a look of pity, petting her hair lightly. She had explained that he had watched his entire family be murdered in front of him, and the assassins, having not realized his parents had hidden him, left. Apparently he had followed them to their encampment not far off, and had become so enraged that he’d blacked out. He had set their encampment and all of the assassins on fire, setting the forest ablaze along with everything else. She said the Templars had found him passed out and brought him to the Circle, where he was volatile and hostile, and that the Templars were wanting to perform the Rite of Tranquility.

Raleigh had told the First Enchanter that he was just hurting and alone, that maybe if someone just tried to talk to him like a person, he would calm down. That had given the First Enchanter an idea, and she had told the small girl to meet her at the west wing.

Raleigh awaited outside of the First Enchanter’s office, playing with the hem of her robes as she stood in the hallway. No one had come or gone, but the First Enchanter had given her an order and she followed it. She was just a bit confused, and bored if she was going to be honest.

Quiet voices floated up from the stairwell, the clanking of Templar armor loud in the narrow hall. Six Templars, the First Enchanter and a lanky elven boy of about fourteen rounded the corner to meet the lone apprentice.

“Are you sure this is wise, First Enchanter? The mageling is still being aggressive, we’ve had to keep him on magebane since we brought him here.”

“This attempt is better than the alternative you wish to take. He deserves every chance we are able to afford him.” The First Enchanter remained firm in her decision, kindly leading the elf away from the Templars who maintained their positions at the end of the hall. She gave Raleigh a soft smile, motioning for the girl to open the door for their guest whose arms were bond in front of him. The dark-haired boy refused to look at anything but the ground as he was led into the office.

When the door shut behind them with a click, the First Enchanter let out a heavy sigh.

“Maker, give me strength to deal with the young initiates who wouldn’t know how to find their arses if they weren’t attached.” The woman led the two young mages further into her full yet organized office, the large bay windows giving a spectacular view of the mountains in the distance, of the forest that surrounded the keep on all sides. It was Raleigh’s first sight of the outside in almost a month, and she looked on in wonder.

“Raleigh,” the First Enchanter calling her name brought her out of her awed-state, the girl walking over to sit on the small sofa that was situated opposite the windows. “This is Aduial, hopefully you can get our stubborn friend to speak. If he doesn’t become compliant, the Knight-Commander will authorize the use of the Rite of Tranquility, and we want to avoid that choice at all cost.” The First Enchanter gently prodded the boy into sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, heading for the door with two young mages watching her back with confusion.

“First Enchanter?”

The woman turned as she opened the door, giving them a smile. “I thought it would be better if you two talked alone, but I’ll be right outside, okay?” and with that she slipped through the opening and then the door was closed behind her.

The silence that filled the room was practically tangible.

“It’s nice to meet you, Aduial. I’m Raleigh.” More silence greeted her. “They’re going to do a really mean thing to you if you don’t start talking.” She frowned when he refused to even look in her direction. “I know what brought you here was really awful, and no one is going to be able to relate–”

“You’re right.” The new voice was hoarse from lack of use, or maybe _overuse_ , and she could see his bound hands clenching in his lap. “No one in this shithole is going to understand, so I don’t understand why they won’t just kill me already.” Raleigh blinked at the profanity, but her eyebrows drew together in wonder.

“You think the Templars are going to kill you?”

“Isn’t that what that shem keeps going on about? This ‘Rite of Tranquility’ or whatever? I killed a lot of people, and I’m Dalish, why wouldn’t they just kill me like those bastards did to my entire clan? Why not just rid Thedas of yet another elf?” He bit out, finally meeting her gaze and she was surprised by the deep violet eyes that were wide with anger and resentment. She bit her lip, letting him breathe through gritted teeth as he strained against the binds.

“The Rite of Tranquility isn’t death, Aduial. It’s worse than death.” The older boy looked at her with a sour expression, but she could see the questions in his uniquely colored eyes. “I just learned about it, too – I’ve only been in the Circle for three weeks. But the Rite is when they cut you off from the Fade, or – ah, I don’t know what the Dalish refer to it as, but the place we go where we dream, where our magic comes from. They sever it and you’re just… there. Tranquil, those who go through the Rite for whatever reason, are emotionless, monotone shells of who they use to be. They can’t perform magic, and they don’t feel anything. You’re alive but you’re lacking all the good parts of being alive. Like a stone that breathes.” She shuddered at the memory of meeting one of the Tranquil during an errand for one of the Senior Enchanters. They were polite, but they were just so _empty_ and she never wanted to have to live like that.

“Why do they do that to people? It would be easier just to die.” The boy looked ill from the thought. He’d probably been aware of his magic for years, with how old he appeared to be. He’d gotten to experience his magic freely, probably being taught by other mages in his clan. She didn’t know anything about the Dalish, so she could only assume.

“Some people willingly go through the Rite because they don’t want to be a mage and would rather exist in a bare mental world than try to live with how they were born. The Templars use it when a mage is shown to be unable to control his powers, or is well out of control with no hope of being reasoned with. Blood mages go through the Rite regardless because it’s forbidden. So, yeah, it’s pretty awful, but they only use it when they feel it is necessary – at this Circle, anyway. This is a really nice Circle, for being an educational prison.” She paused, before scooting closer to the elf and taking his hands in his own, careful to shush at him when he basically growled at her. “Stop squirming so I can take these off. They look uncomfortable.”

“You’re not afraid of me?” He probably would have spat at her, had he been any less polite in his ire.

“Why should I be? Even if anything were to happen to me, the Templars would get you before you could get anywhere. And I’m not afraid to die.” She muttered the last part, prying at the tight binds before a small ‘aha!’ escaped her as she got the knot loose enough to pull it from his wrists. His skin was pale, and the bright red marks were angry against the light skin of his arms. “Is that better? It’s probably gonna hurt a little, blood flow returning and all that.” He rubbed at his bruised wrists, nodding numbly.

“Why did they have some child come sit down with me? Did they think I wouldn’t hurt you because you’re a kid?”

“I’m ten years-old, I’ll have you know. And I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I think it’s because First Enchanter Lydia, the woman who was with us, thinks you might relate to me. I’m new to the Circle, and my situation was… different, like yours. Not quite as horrifying and traumatic as yours was for you, but it was pretty bad, too. They drugged me and carried me here, locking me in some room for a while. It was awful.”

“What happened?” He was openly curious now, still wary.

“You’ll probably hate me, but I’m from an old family in the nearby city of Ostwick. I have a twin brother, Damien, and we have this tradition of sneaking into each other’s beds to sleep even though our parents had forbade it years ago. We’re really close, he is – was, I guess – my best friend, the single person I thought would be in my life forever.” She took a breath, fighting the tears that welled in her eyes. She had to be strong, because this boy’s mind was on the line, his life. She had to make him see.

“Three weeks ago, I was sleeping in his room when three men, mercenaries, broke in and planned to kidnap my brother for ransom. I was excess baggage, so they were going to take me and kill me and leave my body in the woods because they didn’t need me, and maybe it would make them come off as more serious to my parents.” She spared him a glance, bringing her face a little closer to his. “You can’t tell anyone, but I knew I was a mage years ago. My brother and I decided to try and hide my magic so we wouldn’t be separated. On the night that the thieves came, one grabbed me and I was so afraid and panicked that I set him on fire. With my own hands.” She looked down at her unscarred palms, turning them over as she let a few tears fall. She could hear Aduial’s quick breaths beside her, probably reliving the fresh agonizing memories of his own family being killed.

“I watched a man die because of something I had done. I don’t remember much, aside from watching his entire body burn and his screams before they died out. I only barely remember my parents and my brother holding me until the Templars came. I started kicking and screaming, but they forced that gross magebane stuff on me, and then I don’t recall anything until I woke up in that room.” She shrugged, absent-mindedly wiping away the tears that had streamed down her cheeks. “So, it was a little rough getting here, and it’s still hard to adjust, but it’s not all bad. I know you’re not gonna believe me, but maybe being in a Circle isn’t completely awful. I know it’s going to be especially harder for you, but you have at least one person who wants to help you.” She gave him a small smile, trying to convey her sincerity.

“I just want you to live, to be able to experience this restricted life we get to live. We get to learn and practice magic for the rest of our lives, isn’t that great? You have this awesome thing inside of you, something that almost takes on a life of its own – and only you can control it, you. And you’ll make friends, and the Templars aren’t all that bad when they’re not awaiting orders to, y’know, kill you. Wouldn’t your parents want you to keep going, to keep living? My parents, they tried for ten years to have my brother and me, and I know one day they’ll be able to appreciate the fact that I’m alive and well instead of being dead in the wilderness for being an apostate. I miss them and my brother and all the others every day, like a missing limb, but it’s alright. Sometimes.” If she hadn’t been paying attention, she would have missed the tears that were falling down his face. She steeled herself before wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders, laying her head on his shoulders as he cried. Had he even been given the opportunity to just grieve over the loss of his clan? His parents? His life had probably just been heartache and anger for the past few days, and she didn’t know much but she knew just getting the chance to _feel_ was a very important thing, and she wanted to kick the Templars in the shin for being jerks and treating this distressed boy like a wild animal instead of a person.

Perhaps that’s why the First Enchanter asked her to talk to him. So he would get that chance.

Maybe they would be okay. Some day.

* * *

 

After Ser Hoster left with promises of returning for Damien’s first letter, Damien decided he would push himself into physical training. He wanted to be able to defend himself as well as others, but he had never had a knack for a longsword, and a two-handed weapon was way out of the question.

That’s when he met Quinn and Trystan, and he was introduced to the life of a sneak.

The brothers, several years apart in age, were the sons of another noble family of Ostwick who had come to the Trevelyan estate to mourn with the family the loss of their child. It had infuriated Damien to no end, to have all of these adults acting as if his sister had died instead of being carted off to the Circle. He didn’t know which was kinder.

While his home was full to bursting of what appeared to be everyone in the Maker-forbidden city, Damien found himself in the backyard on the makeshift swing his father had built following he and Raleigh’s seventh name day. He kicked at the ground as he ignored the stinging in his eyes, unaware of the two older boys that spied him from inside the estate. He would not cry, not with all of these people in his home. He was expected to be sad, but still presentable for company and he was just tired of the stupid games they played, how appearances and actions were criticized to just about nothing. He had barely seen his parents since Raleigh’s taking, their mother hardly leaving the master bedroom and their father spending more and more time out at work, coming home to hug his son tightly, have a silent dinner and crawl into bed with his wife who had been passed out from exhaustion for hours already.

It was not an okay time in the Trevelyan home, and he wondered if it would ever be okay again.

“Are you alright?” the dual voices caused Damien to cry out and fall from the swing, landing backwards into the grass. He looked up at the two older boys, one only about a year older, a scowl wide across his face as he rushed to pick himself off the ground.

“What are you doing, coming out of nowhere like that?”

“We’re sorry, we just wanted to see if you would like some company. You seemed a little lonely.”

“My twin sister was taken to the Circle and I’ve barely seen my parents since she left – of course I’m lonely, but that doesn’t mean I want the company of strangers who scared me out of a swing.”

“During times of hardship, we should look to new opportunities to distract ourselves and to help cope with the grief.” The two were switching off their sentences, continuing the conversation as if they were one person. If Damien hadn’t been a twin and prone to this type of situation, he’d be a little more weirded out by them.

“We would like to be friends, if that’s okay with you.”

“Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because friends are there to help you when you are too stubborn to admit that you need help, and we enjoy making new friends who might join us on adventures.” The word ‘adventures’ perked Damien’s interest, the younger boy giving the brothers a wary glare.

“’Adventures?’”

“Yes, of a shadow-y nature.” Both boys held out different types of sweets they had stolen from the kitchens, desserts that weren’t supposed to be put out until later in the evening. Damien felt like a hole had been punched through his chest right where the skin had started to stitch close. He was reminded of all the times he and his sister had rummaged through the kitchens where they weren’t allowed to be, taking sweets and the like before making their perilous escape.

“We like to not be too noticeable, and we can see that you’ve done this kind of thing before. But we can help you with more than just stealing sweets and playing pranks. We can teach you to fight, too, if that’s something you’d be interested in.” The brothers each gave Damien a single sweet, the three of them standing in the backyard and quietly munching on their stolen delights. “Your mother’s cakes are amazing, I’m glad we did this.” The older boy, Quinn, mentioned, the younger one nodding his agreement. Damien slowly chewed the cake in his mouth, thinking over the offer the brothers had made him. He missed his sister dearly, but maybe this was just the distraction he needed.

He would never be defenseless again. He would never let anyone take someone he cared about from him, not in his life.

“Alright, let’s be friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: interlude - letters 
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting)


	4. interlude - letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters, found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm not going to make the change, but there was a mistake made in the very first chapter. Canonically, the twin's mother is actually from Tevinter, a non-mage born to a higher class family. She's not from Kirkwall like is stated, but since it won't affect this story no changes will be made. Whoops.
> 
> A short little interlude, and I apologize for the wait - classes are about to start and I've been playing Inquisition non-stop to try and beat it before I have to sell my soul back to my university. At least I've figured out that this story will probably be 15 chapters instead of 13 like originally planned. Yippee?? (And I apologize for uploading this at 2:30am - I wanted to get it out before I went to bed. Because I love you all?)
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

(Letters found in the wreckage of the Ostwick Circle. Found in a locked box in the senior mages quarters.)

_Raleigh,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Maker, it’s so hard to write this. Not because of you, but because of the_ lack _of you. Ser Hoster is a good man, and this would not be possible without him._

_I miss you, but I’m pretty sure that’s obvious._

_Mother and Father are… bad. Mother never leaves their room and Father is working like we’re falling into poverty. When it’s too quiet at night, I can hear them both crying from my room, which in turn only makes me want to cry too._

_How is the Circle? Is everything going well? Have you blown anything up yet?_

_I love you sister, I hope this reaches you._

_Your Brother,_

_Damien_

_Brother,_

_Oh how WONDERFUL it is to hear from you! It is a dream come true, a miracle to be sure. I will have to sneak Ser Hoster some of the First Enchanter’s delicious cakes, they are too die for. I think they have magic in them to make them taste so good._

_The Circle is not terrible, if you can believe it. Sure, we can’t marry, can’t have kids, can’t go outside except for the inner courtyard in the keep… oh wait, I’m supposed to be talking about WHY it’s not terrible, not why it is a suffocating prison of oppression._

_The learning is everything and anything I’ve ever wanted out of a possible education. There’s so much to learn, I don’t think I could possibly ever read every book they have in the keep’s library, and the First Enchanter – the representative of the mages – has decided to make me her student, and I’ve only been here a three months! It’s exciting, and she’s wonderful. I think she knows that I knew magic before, I don’t know how, but I’m sure of it._

_I met a new friend. His name is Aduial, he’s Dalish! He came to the Circle not long after I did, and oh, Brother, it was awful. Some assassins were hired to kill his entire clan, and his parents hid him and all he could do was watch. He ended up going crazy and killing all of the assassins, and he was an absolute mess when he got here. First Enchanter Lydia asked me to sit with him, and we became friends after we had it out. He’s a good guy, brother, I think you would like him. He knows about the magic thing, but he promised he wouldn’t tell. He seems like the kind of person who wouldn’t tell, you know?_

_Damien, my twin, I miss you so much. I sleep in the same quarters as several other apprentices but I still feel all alone without you sleeping next to me. The first few weeks were the worst, but the others, they helped. They let me cry and they didn’t make me feel bad for being upset. They all understood to some degree. They are so kind._

_Yet I would give anything to be with you and our parents again. But I know that can’t happen._

_I love you brother. Please take care._

_Awaiting your reply,_

_Raleigh_

_p.s., No explosions… yet._

(More letters, dated a few years later.)

_‘Ien,_

_Aduial has gone through his harrowing! He’s an official mage now! I’m so excited for him, but that means he’ll be moving to the east wing and I won’t be seeing him as often anymore. I will miss him greatly, but he keeps trying to reassure me that we’ll see each other, especially since I’m being tutored by the First Enchanter. He says my harrowing will come soon, and I’ll be one of the youngest apprentices to take the harrowing. The thought scares me, but it’s exciting at the same time. My heart is leaping just thinking about it._

_I think one of the other apprentices likes me. His name is Tomas, and he’s nice, but I don’t like him as anything more than a friend. I wish you were here to scare him off. Aduial says I’m too nice and that’s why he keeps trying to hold my hand and stuff, but I just don’t want to be mean. I’ve told him I just want to be friends but he’s persistent! It’s maddening!_

_How are Trys and Quinn? Quinn’s engaged now, isn’t he? How is that going? Did you and Trys ever manage to steal that silver goblet from the merchant’s stall down the main road? They were always super rude to us, he doesn’t deserve nice things. Maker take him._

_Happy Belated Thirteenth Name Day, Brother._

_Your Twin,_

_Raleigh_

_Raleigh,_

_Mother is pregnant. We’re going to have another sibling soon – hopefully they won’t be born a month early like we were. Apparently that’s bad._

_I’m scared. I don’t want them to replace you. You’re not dead, just gone. I can’t stand the thought of them forgetting you._

_I like Blake for a boy, and Harlowe for a girl. What do you think?_

_Your Twin,_

_Damien_

(This note is smeared from what seems to be tear stains, the words smudged but still legible.)

What? _Mother is going to have another baby?_

_… I like Harlowe. It’s pretty._

_Please don’t forget me, brother._

_Raleigh_

_Sister,_

_Her name is Harlowe Rose. She’s so pink and whiny and mother looks at her like she’s the world. Father pulled me aside and said that they still love you, love_ us _, but they love little Harlowe too and that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still their little girl. I wish I could tell them that we are writing, but they’d probably make me stop in the event that we ever got caught. We’d be in so much trouble, ‘leigh._

_She looks like mother. She has our eyes, father’s eyes, but she has mother’s dark red hair and it’s all patchy all over her head. She loves me, they say, because whenever I hold her she’s quiet and smiley and sweet. Holding babies is stressful, everyone’s watching you and they’re waiting like you’re going to drop her on purpose. I would never drop my little sister, that’s stupid._

_I’m going to make sure she knows that she has another sister. I’m not going to let you be forgotten. Never. She’s going to love you and miss you just as much as I do, don’t doubt it._

_Forever your twin,_

_Damien_

(The last letters found are dated three years after the previously found letters. These seem to be the end of the correspondence.)

_An apprentice failed their harrowing today. They cut her down as a demon of desire overtook her, the Templars whispered when they think we’re too engrossed in our readings. Maker’s breath, I knew her all too well. She’s was happy for me when I took my harrowing and succeeded two years ago, eagerly awaiting her own whenever it was time. I helped her study and practice after I became an official mage of the Circle, only to have this happen…_

_If only she’d had a little bit more time, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe if I had helped her more, if I had focused on something else – I cried so much when we got the news. First Enchanter Lydia held me and Aduial drew me a portrait of her smiling. I’m going to keep it forever, I will not forget her. She deserves to be remembered. Her name was Sellaria, she was from the alienage in Kirkwall._

_There have been more whispers among the Templars that they are going to be changing out some of the guards with the Circle in Ferelden. Ser Greagoir is going to Kinloch Hold for sure, and I’m scared that Ser Hoster is going with him._

_I can’t lose this. I can’t lose_ you _, brother._

_I can only hope that they allow Ser Hoster to be one of the Templars that remain, because praying seems to fall on deaf, unforgivably cruel ears._

_If this is to be one of the last letters, brother, I love you with all of myself. Kiss little Harlowe for me, will you? Remind our parents that I love them, that I’m still thinking about them. I know they’ll smile sadly at you and say, ‘Of course she does dear, we love her too,’ but it doesn’t hurt to try._

_Take care,_

_Raleigh_

(This letter is messy, as if written in a hurry. There are tear stains. This is the last dated letter.)

_I’m am aware you already know but Ser Hoster is being transferred and I cannot help but feel utterly helpless, and nauseous._

_Our written journey is coming to an end, sister, as we both knew it would. I just wish it hadn’t been so soon. The past six years of letter-exchanging has kept me going, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I no longer have your letters to look forward to. You have always been my rock, my solidarity, ever since we were children. Now look at us – the youngest Senior Enchanter at the Ostwick Circle of Magi, and the heir to the Trevelyan title and fortune._

_I would give up all of our lands, our history, just to have you by my side. We shared our mother before we were born, and were inseparable until the day you saved our lives. Where is the Maker, and why does he believe we deserve to be treated so relentlessly? I know you no longer believe in him, sister, but I need someone to blame for this because this is just too unfair for me to saddle on my own. Harlowe is too young and our parents act as if I were an only child growing up, and you’re so close but not in reach for me to see._

_I hate this life we’ve been dealt. I would give up everything and anything, if I could just have my twin at my side to face life’s travesties together._

_Ser Hoster is waiting to bring this to you, and I can’t stop blubbering enough to finish a single train of thought. I can’t think of what to say to you, anything but what I know I need to say._

_You are in my mind and heart always, Raleigh, my sister – my twin. I will never forget you, and I pray to the Maker that one day we will be reunited. And if that never happens, I will cherish our memories for the rest of my days. I am asking Ser Hoster to bring you all of the letters you have written me over the years, so that you may have something to remember me by. I have things of yours from when we were children, so I believe you need these more than I._

_Goodbye, dear sister. You are the single most important person in my life, even though you’re not here._

_Your brother,_

_Damien_

A year after these letters were initially discovered and discarded, the explosion of the Conclave decimated an entire mountaintop and hundreds of people.

A year after these letters were first unearthed, Damien Trevelyan – the Herald of Andraste – was found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: a safe (haven)
> 
> i'm on tumblr! (cupycakefrosting)


	5. a safe (haven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the explosion of the conclave, things are pretty rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the wait - spring semester at my university has started up, and I've been busy, per usual. I've come to realize, as I've been writing this, that it's been pretty choppy and just.. crap. No, I won't stop writing, but I will do my best in order to get the story to flow more easily for the remainder of the time.
> 
> I also realize, that in my previous chapter, I stated that it was in-line with the game, before "In Your Heart Shall Burn" and that is /false/. It's THIS chapter that is in-line with the game, but I had this chapter written out when I posted the previous one and I just had a major brain fart. Sorry folks.
> 
> The next chapter after this one will be the last choppy-chapter, so to speak. Hurrah.
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

The past few months had taken the biggest clusterfuck of a turn that Damien had never been expecting.

As the official delegate of his family’s interest for the Conclave, he had been sent to Haven to have his voice heard among the many others that intended. Instead, there had been a giant explosion which lead to the death of everyone in attendance, aside from himself and his newly received glowing hand.

The Maker had a sick sense of humor.

Following the brute force of one Cassandra Pentaghast – the Divine’s Right Hand – Damien had assisted in fighting demons and shades and wraiths to try and fix the giant hole in the sky. Then they’d journeyed with an elven mage named Solas and a snarky, crossbow-naming dwarf called Varric Tethras to the shambles of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and things only kept getting worse because that was the life that Damien decided to live, apparently.

Damien just wanted a nap that wasn’t precluded with being knocked unconscious by some explosion or another, dammit.

The recently named ‘Herald of Andraste’ had then been dumped into the life of the reborn Inquisition, and he wasn’t too sure on how to feel about it. On the one hand, he was getting the chance to try and fix the world for the better. However, that meant scrounging around through the bloody Hinterlands, doing this and that to gain reliable agents and requisitions for the Inquisition. Damien had been in the Hinterlands for nearly a month with his travelling companions before one of Leliana’s ravens found them, stating that they should return to Haven to discuss some on-goings in Val Royeaux. Damien had never been to Orlais, never had any interest in making the trip prior to his work with the Inquisition - but he would give both of his arms to get out of the fucking Hinterlands. Anything, really, and he may have leaped for joy after reading the letter calling them back to their base of operations.

The following events tried Damien’s patience more than anything else that had been thrown at him thus far, including the shit he’d had to do in the Hinterlands. If it hadn’t been for the already tense and delicate situation, he would have forcibly deposited one of his throwing knives into the bastard who had knocked the blithering chantry mother unconscious, because no one treated a peaceful, non-violent person like they were less than dirt and got away with it. Cassandra and Solas had physically restrained him as he barked insult after insult at the Templars, the mark on his hand glowing frantically with his anger. It had taken him time to regain his composure, only to nearly be impaled by an arrow with clues that led them all about the summer bazaar. The group had also been greeted by a mage, inviting the Herald of Andraste to some Lord’s estate later that night.

Val Royeaux had been a kick for sure, especially the soldiers who had come running at them without their breeches. Damien may have been too distracted by being bent-over laughing to actually participate in the following scuffle, but it wasn’t like it had been difficult.

So they collected two more companions, and the Inquisition itself was growing more and more with each passing day.

They soon ventured to the Storm Coast, which was questionably a little less shitty than the Hinterlands, but definitely more wet. They’d hired the Chargers and Damien might have gotten a little too tipsy to walk properly, and he didn’t remember being carried over Iron Bull’s shoulder back to camp, but apparently that had indeed occurred. Cassandra had made her regular disgusted noise, and Varric had promised that he would make sure to include that tidbit in his next novel. Damien may have been mortified, but he’d never admit that openly.

Time continued forward, and they welcomed Warden Blackwall to their ragtag group of companions. Then they’d ventured to Redcliffe to seek the mage’s assistance with the Breach, and Damien had just wanted to bash his head into the wall when they finally reached the tavern. Maker, did the Breach leave a giant hole in everyone’s heads as well as the sky? Why was everything turning to absolute shit?

When Felix had collapsed in his arms while leaving the vague note in his hand, Damien groaned as Varric snickered at his predicament. His bickering companions had followed him to the Chantry soon after.

They were welcomed by a crackling rift and a too handsome man who was jesting that they’d taken their time getting there and to get off their arses and _help. Him_.

Dorian Pavus was a beautiful man, but Damien hid his thoughts behind a mask of distrust and uncertainty. When they’d gone back to Redcliffe Castle to speak with Alexius, and the two men had been tossed a year into the future, the only thing he could think about was that he’d have to explain this to his parents and his little sister one day and they were just going to laugh at him. No one was going to believe him except the ones who had been present, and even then it was a hard notion to digest for them all. Magic was fucking scary.

In the end, they’d survived the horrible future they desperately needed to avoid and returned to Haven somewhat victorious. Damien returned with his new companion talking up his other friends, and he returned with a new crush that burned like a fire deep within his chest. He didn’t need to be distracted by the Tevinter mage and his sass and his handsome face, he had other things he needed to focus on.

Like closing the giant clusterfuck in the sky. Because that – that was still a thing and he was the _only person in all of Thedas_ who could do a damn thing about it. It was difficult to write home to his family without making it sound like his life wasn’t completely fucked. Because, let’s be honest, it pretty much was. He and Commander Cullen brooded over letters they had received from their own families, and they had sat in the War Room to make sure they both finished their responses. They were pretty horrible at the communication thing, but if they worked together surely they could accomplish something.

Now, all there was left was to finish up a few things they had abandoned in the Hinterlands, their new Tevinter companion accompanying them.

“I got word on another Red Lyrium deposit we could look into on our way back to camp once we’re finished talking to Master Dennet.” The dwarf said off-hand as the group of five made their way to the farms that Master Dennet called home, with the good news that Bron’s watchtowers were finally complete and that the wolves had been dealt with for his wife. Cassandra had suggested asking Master Dennet to come with his horses to Haven, but Damien wasn’t going to give his hopes up. Solas and Dorian were talking magic and the Fade, and that was one conversation that Damien wasn’t really up to contributing to and not just because he didn’t really understand what they were talking about.

The common talk of magic – now that they had brought Grand Enchanter Fiona’s mages in as allies to help close the Breach – brought a toll upon Damien, for it gave him troubling thoughts about something he really didn’t need to be thinking about with everything else going on. It made his mind wander back to Haven right before they had left for the Hinterlands.

He thought on how the Ostwick Circle had rebelled, how the rebel mages had killed anyone that stood in their way of escape, Templars and mages alike. The Inquisition, at Vivienne’s request, had sent troops to Ostwick in order to retrieve anything they could recover from the riot a year before, along with a few other Circles throughout the Free Marches. Damien had simply nodded when his advisors asked his opinion on the Circle matter. While they were confused, they didn’t question him.

Vivienne knew, though. She knew something was amiss.

The First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle had asked the Herald for a moment of his time when he dismissed them all from the War Table, and he followed her to her temporary quarters with his mood still dark and contemplative. Vivienne ushered him to take a seat across from her, bringing him a mug of tea and sitting herself in the other chair. She sipped politely as the Herald looked down into the liquid he held, possibly contemplating if it held all the answers he needed.

“You know, Ser Trevelyan,” Vivienne started, taking another small sip before placing the cup on her desk beside her. “Did I ever tell you about where I was, before Montsimmard?”

“No, Lady Vivienne, though I did suspect you weren’t from Orlais from the accent. Where are you from? I don’t know much about you, unlike the others.” The Herald finally raised the cup to his lips, his noble birth showing in how he held himself. Vivienne quirked the corner of her lips, a small chuckle escaping her as she nodded.

“You would be correct, and your ear is nearly as good at Ser Tethras’, if you were to ask me. I’m not originally from Orlais, I was born in Wycome, in the Free Marches. At a young age when my magic came to awareness, I was sent to the Ostwick Circle.” She caught the twitch of her company’s left eye, though it was so subtle she would have missed it had she not been actively looking. “I was there for years before the single greatest opportunity of my life was presented to me, however unfortunate it may have been for other parties involved. There was a girl, of noble birth, who had been brought to the Circle under tense circumstances that had all of the apprentices and the senior mages gossiping. However, thanks to her arrival, myself and a few others were to be transferred to Montsimmard to make room in the small Circle. Why, I do wonder what that girl’s name was – I went to thank her, in the cell they were keeping her in for the first few days…” She paused, watching the subtle shudder the Herald’s shoulders, his near-amber eyes shut tight in what appeared to be agony. She pressed on, because surely he would want to know of his twin sister’s fate?

“She was a sweet girl, and I later heard she did very well for herself in the Circle. Before the rebellion, she was meant to be First Enchanter Lydia’s successor, which caused quite a stir among the other Circles because of her young age. Now, if only I could–“

“Lady Vivienne, if we could please cease talking of this particular subject. And if you would be so kind as to not mention this specific person to anyone, or any relation I may have to them. It is…” he stopped, biting his lower lip as he opened his eyes to stare once more into his cup. “It is something I would rather not have distract me from my mission, something I cannot afford to think about in such trying times.”

“Of course, Ser Trevelyan. My apologies, I should have known better.”

“It is quite alright, I can understand that your intentions were good, just ill-timed.” He quickly tossed back the tea in his cup, setting the empty mug on Vivienne’s desk before standing, bowing slightly at the waist. “And… thank you, Lady Vivienne, for this insight. It was most kind of you.” The gratuities were muttered softly, as to make sure that no one else would listen in on their short conversation.

“Go now, Herald of Andraste: you have much work to do.”

Thinking about the encounter now, Damien wondered if he could have made less of an arse of himself in front of Vivienne. Probably not, but he could have reeled in his emotions better, not let himself get so riled from words that were not meant with ill-intentions. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Varric’s shout of ‘ _Duck!’_ and had to be tackled in order to miss have a rogue fireball that would have roasted him alive.

He was getting really tired of all this mage and Templar bullshit. Also _fireballs_.

“You really need to get your head in the game, oh contemplative one, lest you turn into doe-eyed toast on the battlefield.” Dorian quipped from his position atop his own flat-out body, picking himself up off the Herald of Andraste and shooting his own ball of fire at one of the rebel spellbinders to give Damien the time he needed to collect himself and ready for battle – the Trevelyan heir could see incoming Templars off to the west that needed to be dealt with once the mages were dead. Honestly, it took Damien more time to recover from having Dorian’s weight on top of him than it did the actual shock from being barreled into by the Tevinter mage.

He really needed to calm his crush down. It couldn’t be healthy to latch onto someone so quickly.

“That’s gotta hurt!” Varric’s enthralled shout followed Damien sinking twin daggers into the back of a Templar guard who hadn’t realized his presence until the metal had met his insides in a smooth thrust, Damien quickly backing away to pick off some Templars who had started ganging up on Solas. He was preparing to jump on the back of one of the marksmen when a bolt of lightning struck right in front of him, passing through the enemies that had circled the elven mage. Yet it hadn’t been Solas, and Dorian was killing stragglers who had been harassing Cassandra tirelessly for the duration of their fight. He and Solas both looked to see a cloaked figure standing atop a nearby tower, staff at the ready for another strike.

“Another rebel mage?” Solas questioned as the rest of the Templars and mages were cut down, the group gathering back together as the mage from earlier approached them.

“Well, he’s not attacking us on sight, so that’s got to be a good sign, right?” Varric replied, putting Bianca back into her holster as they stood warily as the mage cloaked in black drew closer.

“You are from the Inquisition, are you not?” the mage’s voice was deeper than expected, not much of his face visible from the shadows created by his hood. Damien thought his build similar to an elf’s, and when the newcomer threw back his hood at their affirmative, the Herald’s suspicions were proved correct.

The elf also had the most vibrant violet eyes – eyes Damien had never seen in anyone other than some few Qunari.

“Yes, we are agents of the Inquisition. Thank you for the assistance, it was most appreciated.” Damien spoke, seeing Solas’ nod of agreement out of his peripheral vision.

“You are most welcome, and I am pleasantly surprised that you did not immediately label me the enemy. Not all of us freed from the Circles wish to partake in this bloodbath.” The elf placed his staff back in its holster, extending a hand to Damien. “You must be the infamous Herald of Andraste. Being Dalish myself, I do not believe as you do, but it is reassuring to see someone actively trying to close the tear in the sky.”

“You are Dalish, yet you say you’re from the Circle? How did that come to be?” Solas asked after the two shook hands, the stranger running his gloved hands through his messy bangs with a small laugh.

“It’s not a long story, but not one that I’m particularly open to sharing at this given time. Now, I came to your assistance because it appeared that you could use the help, and since the danger has passed, I shall take my leave.”

“If you’re not a rebel,” Cassandra started, the stranger meeting her curious and slightly accusatory gaze. “Then what are you doing here in the Hinterlands, travelling on your own? You see how dangerous it is, even for an experienced and sizable group as we are.”

“I’m simply trying to avoid the fighting, making my way west in hopes of eventually running into another Dalish clan that would be willing to take in a Circle-trained mage, such as myself. The clan my father was from spent their time roaming Orlais, so I go to seek them for shelter from this wretched predicament we’ve found ourselves in. And, I have only had a year of freedom compared to the seventeen years locked away in what is essentially a prison. Travelling has done absolute wonders for me, and I will not squander my opportunity to do as my people have done for centuries.”

“Would it not be safer to travel in a group? Were there not others that escaped your Circle who didn’t join the rebels?” Cassandra badgered, slight concern showing in her often stern expression. The others thought she was just happy to see a mage who wasn’t fireball happy. None of their group missed the sad smile that graced his lips, however.

“Unfortunately, those who did not riot against the Circle perished in the following skirmish, including our Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. To my knowledge, no one else escaped. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I checked for survivors and found none, and left on my own.” He gave an indifferent shrug. “I would travel in a group, if I could find others who did not attack me on sight. Aside from all of you, of course. And, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Your concern is appreciated.”

“Why not join the Inquisition? You could help us close the Breach, and you would be free to go to Orlais after. No one would force you back into a Circle.” Damien asked the violet-eyed stranger, wondering why his mind was stuck on the odd color. He racked his brain for a sensible answer, but found none.

“The offer is tempting, I will be honest. Safety in numbers and all of that. Yet I do believe I will remain on my own, but should I change my mind before crossing the border I will go to your base of operations in Haven and volunteer to assist in whatever way I can. It is admirable, in all this unbalance and turbulence that you are fighting to close the rip in the sky while others continue to bicker and slaughter one another. It is most refreshing.”

“The Inquisition will openly accept your help, should you decide to venture towards Haven in your travels.” Damien rarely thanked his noble birth, if only for his diplomatic and polite responses in such matters.

“What is your name? So that we may know who comes calling, should it happen?” Cassandra politely requested. The others may have silently wondered to themselves why _Cassandra Pentaghast_ of all people was being overly polite to an apostate, but all of them liked living so they kept their questions to themselves.

“Of course, my lady. My name is Aduial Lavellan, former mage of the Ostwick Circle of Magi in the Free Marches.” His name alone was enough to knock the breath from Damien’s lungs, the rogue clenching his fists tightly at his side to keep himself grounded. He was sure that if he hadn’t been wearing gloves, his fingernails would be digging into the palms of his hands quite painfully. Which he might need, in this moment.

“Lavellan? In my travels I crossed paths with a Dalish clan just over two decades ago, their Keeper was Threhel Lavellan. Are you his son?” Solas and Aduial shared a look, but the newcomer nodded all the same. Damien was breathing sharply through his teeth, garnering Varric’s attention, though the dwarf remained silent, for once.

“My memory is spotty at best from my time before the Circle, but yes, Threhel Lavellan was my father. My apologies if I do not remember you, ser.”

“That’s not necessary, I was rather young myself at the time I stumbled upon your clan, and unfortunately I did not spend much time with them. They were good people, your clan. I understand now what sent you to the Circle, and for that you have my most sincere apology.”

“Thank you, ser. That is kind of you to say.”

“We should probably allow ser Lavellan to continue his travels without our probing.” Damien had composed himself enough to try and free the best friend of his twin sister from their dragging conversation, offering his hand to the elf once more in parting. “Do take care, ser. It’s pretty rough out there.” The elf took it, his grip firmer than expected.

“And you as well, Herald of Andraste. _Dareth shiral_.” The elf gave a wave of his hand before turning his back on the group, seeming to vanish into the air before them. The entire group paused, glancing at one another in confusion.

Maker’s ass, this world was cocked up.

“What was that?” Varric blurted out, knowing at least the other two non-mages were just as confused as he was.

“It seems Master Lavellan is a Fade Walker, one who can temporarily go into the Fade where the Veil is thin and travel a greater distance than that of reality. It is extremely rare, something I have seen only once or twice during my time in the Fade. It is elven-specific, I believe, going back to the time before the Exalted March. Fascinating. I’m sure he is able to travel in the Fade more frequently, since we have yet to seal the Breach.” The others turned to Solas as he explained, surprised yet again by the elf’s knowledge.

“I had no idea that Fade Walking was a thing – I’ve never read about it or heard any of the Magister’s speak of it. Maybe you’re right on it being usable only by elves. Maker, that’s brilliant!” the Tevinter’s eyes were bright with curiosity on the subject, staring at the empty space where Aduial Lavellan had been only moments before. Damien rolled his eyes at Dorian’s excitement, but couldn’t help the small smile at his apparent glee.

“Now that we’ve gotten our daily dose of weird Fade shit, let’s go crush some red lyrium and get some horses.” The Herald was still reeling over the fact that the elf had shown up, had harshly slapped the reminder of his twin in his face by his mere presence. Even though he had fought them, the memories and the questions swirled swiftly in his mind. Maybe after they sealed the Breach, he could come forward to his Advisors and ask them to look into the matter, see if anything could be found. Maybe Vivienne would assist him, for she had met his sister, had _thanked her_ for a random, lucky circumstance. Maybe Raleigh was still out there, somewhere, despite Aduial’s insistence that there were no other survivors who had not joined the rebellion. There might be a thread of a chance.

The hope had taken root in his chest, and he was waiting for cruel fate to all but rip it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: wanderlust
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting)


	6. wanderlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom always comes with a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay! That doesn't even begin to cover it. Here's another chapter, the last choppy-ish chapter (hopefully). 
> 
> Also, I really do like to make shit up as I go. And I would like to warn you now that the later chapters will come a bit slower, especially when it comes to the chapters containing romances: I just finished my Cullen romance playthrough a week ago. That's all fine and dandy, but I am on my /third/ attempt at starting a Dorian romance, and I want to be able to actually get through the game with him romanced before I start writing them for the story. I will let you know how that goes, for all our sake's. 
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

She opened her eyes to complete darkness, and for a time, she truly thought she had died. She grunted harshly, the movements of her legs restricted by an unseen obstruction. She used the last bit of strength in her arms to push whatever had been on her legs away from her body, panting and blaspheming from the pain which radiated from her calves. The mage could tell more than a few bones were broken, but she persevered and managed to free her damaged limbs from the debris.

She kept moving forward, blindly forcing her way up – at least, what she believed to be up.

It took time, but _finally_ she was greeted by light which momentarily blinded her, the mage raising her bruised arms to shield her sensitive eyes from the sun which hung overhead, over her and her surroundings. When Raleigh could finally blink her eyes and keep them open for more than a second, she took in the destruction around her with wide, fearful eyes and her heart clutched tightly in her chest. The air was too thick, too filled with an aura of terror and trepidation.

She vaguely remembered the wall blasting in on her, crumpling and burying her beneath the heavy stone. She had been crying over the First Enchanter’s body, the woman having died protecting the apprentices and unexperienced mages from the rebels who had torn the castle asunder. Lydia had been alive for only moments after Raleigh had struggled through the chaos to find her, smiling softly as the young woman fell to her knees, openly sobbing and her attempts at healing the First Enchanter utterly fruitless. Raleigh had been a wreck, begging relentlessly through her choked sobs for her mentor to live, to bring peace and life back to the institution she had called home for near twenty years. The elder woman shushed her softly, petting Raleigh’s blood-spattered hair weakly as her student continued to cry into her chest.

A few minutes later, the woman who had been like a mother to her, more than a protector and mentor, died in her arms in the remains of her office, the stone walls crumbled and every surfaced scorched or damaged beyond repair. Raleigh couldn’t hear any semblance of fighting left in the keep, and took the time to mourn and grieve for all the destruction, all the lives taken. She hadn’t believed in the Maker in years, and the only mention of his name that passed her lips were curses.

She gathered up some of the items she could salvage from the wreckage and placed them in her pack, fighting back tears as she readied the room to be burned. She couldn’t save even a tenth of the artifacts and tombs, but she took what she thought her instructor would want her to save, took what she thought might hold sentimental value. She reassured herself of the pendant at her throat, holding it tightly in her palm before resolving herself to her current mission.

Later, she walked from the burning tower, refusing to look back to the only home she had known for the past eighteen years.

* * *

 

In the year following the rebellion at the Circle, Raleigh wandered.

At first, she had run as far from the free city of Ostwick as she could, convincing a pair travelling elven merchants to allow her passage out of the city. Her chest grew hollower as she saw less and less of the city, dashing the possibility of seeing her family from her mind as she conversed with the couple on all the latest gossip. They didn’t fear her for she did not carry a staff, preferring to channel the magic through body instead of an instrument. She could hold her own against one or two opponents, but with her specialty being spirit healing, she’d be easily overwhelmed by a group of enemies. So she stuck to being a seemingly defenseless traveler, carrying daggers to ward off those who might think her easy prey.

(To be honest, she really couldn’t use those, either. They stayed in her thigh holsters for the safety of all around.)

The couple took her to a nearby port, and a ship heading into Ferelden allowed her to board their ship at the promise of not getting in the way. She did so, keeping to the lower decks for the duration of the voyage. She’d never been on a boat, never been on open water – and it did not agree with her. No ser, it did not. Maker, why was the sea so _shaky_. It’s like the waves were having a giant fit over absolutely nothing.

Raleigh, under the guise of ‘Red,’ parted ways with the vessel’s captain and crew and ventured onto Ferelden for the first time in her life. She’d been free of the Circle’s walls for only a few weeks, but it felt as if she was experiencing life for the first time. At the same time, however, she’d never felt more empty.

She was truly alone.

For the next few months, she avoided the fighting to the best of her ability, tip-toeing through towns and healing innocents who were wrongly injured in the Templar-mage war. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to keep moving in order to avoid the bulk of the fighting. There were times when she had considered joining Grand Enchanter Fiona and the rebellion – Maker knows they probably needed more healers – but didn’t have it in her to fight for a cause she didn’t know if she supported. Should the Circle policies be changed? Sure. But there were so many mages, so many things that could go _wrong_ but they deserved to be free just like anyone else, not torn away from their families with no hope of seeing them. She started to drink more at the taverns she passed through, but never enough to impair her senses, never enough to make a mistake. She had to keep moving, no matter what.

When she stumbled upon Kinloch Hold, it had been more than half a year since her departure from the Free Marches. She looked up at the tower in the middle of Lake Calenhad, slightly worn from the fighting, but still standing. She spoke to the wary but non-hostile Templar who stood guard at the small dock, asking her what her business at the Circle was. She asked if a Templar named Hoster remained, and the name seemed to be a pass onto the Circle grounds, and she was brought across the water to Kinloch Hold. She could feel how the building itself had never fully recovered from the events ten years prior, as a girl of eighteen she had constantly begged the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter for news, for updates on all that resided her. Mostly for Ser Hoster’s sake, but she never asked for his name. She never learned of his fate, until now.

She’d been led to a small room, surprised to see that both mages and Templars remained about, a small group left over from the Circle who refused to partake in the war. An older woman brought her some tea, the mage asking her questions and smiling sadly when the answers she received were vague and half-truths. _Red_ thanked her for the tea, sipping slowly while she waited alone in the room.

When the veteran Templar rounded the corner, Raleigh felt all but ten years-old again. She felt so small, as small and young as the day she’d been brought to the Ostwick Circle nearly twenty years ago.

“It’s so wonderful to see you doing well, Ser Hoster.” She greeted warmly, standing from her chair to greet the much older man.

“Little Lady Trevelyan is not so little anymore, is she? Come here, child, I can see you near bouncing out of your skin.” He motioned her forward and she wrapped her arms around the Templar’s neck, laughing lightly as he hugged her about the waist.

“It delights me that I finally get to thank you for what you did back in Ostwick. You are a saint, Ser Hoster, and I will never be able to properly thank you for the kindness you showed me.”

“Oh, child, there is no need to thank this old man. Well, I was old then, I’m just older now. Almost ancient, some would say.” She swatted his armor lightly, laughing freely as the two conversed of anything and everything from the last twelve years. They sat in the now-warm room for many hours, many cups of tea consumed as well as stories and anecdotes shared. The other mages and Templars gave them their privacy, a small curtesy amongst all the hardship. She discovered that those that remained had wanted to keep out of the war, too old, too tired or too young to partake in the fighting. She offered her services as a healer, but the older Templar politely declined, saying that all who stayed were uninjured, not in need of the magic she maintained. Their time grew short, and Raleigh knew she would have to set out again soon.

“Do be careful in your journeys, dear – it’s war, after all.”

“I know, Ser Hoster, and I am grateful for the time you spared for me today.” They stood from the table that they had been sitting at for quite a while, another mage sneaking in to give her a pack of food and poultices for the road. She thanked her sincerely, turning back to the Templar with a sad smile. “I wish I could stay, but I must follow the wind and see where it takes me. Being kept in one place for so long, it leaves one restless.”

“With that, I can agree.” The older man chuckled, leading the no-longer little girl who he’d smuggled letters for many years ago to the entrance of the tower. “I know you said you wouldn’t, but do at least think about trying to locate your family. Change is coming, and this might be your only opportunity before things get even more chaotic.” He observed the young woman’s pained expression, watched as the emotions conflicted in her eyes. “You miss them. That much is obvious.”

“I do, but what would it do to them if I were to come back into their lives? Lives that they’ve lived without me for twenty years? I have a little sister who has never met me, who would think me a stranger in her home. The only one I can imagine being open to my return would be my brother, and I haven’t spoken to him in twelve years. It’s too difficult to stomach, for all parties involved.” She bit her lip, seeing the pity and sadness cross over Ser Hoster’s features. “Maybe I will write to them, to let them know that I’m alright.”

“That’s a good start, Raleigh – or is Red going to be a more permanent fixture in your travelling?”

“I like Red, just so you know!” the mage puffed out her cheeks as the old Templar laughed outright, giving the woman a hug and a pet of her long hair.

“You should let one of the others braid your hair. What happens if you get into a fight?”

“I avoid fights at all costs, Ser Hoster. I’m not the best fighter, and to be quite frank I’d need so much training in order to be decent. It helps, being more aware of one’s surroundings. But I will keep my hair braided and out of the way, if it will ease your mind.”

“It would, dear. Immensely.” The silence was loud, the two of them sharing small, sad smiles as the dust settled. “I suppose you should get on your way, lest I find a way to keep you here and out of the midst of the war.”

“Thank you again for everything, Ser. And tell the others thank you for me as well, their generosity is not lost on me.”

“Of course.”

And she left the tower, feeling simultaneously full and empty at the same time.

* * *

 

Red remembered the explosion of the Conclave, the mass hysteria it had caused. She had been staying in a small village not far from Haven, the place where Divine Justinia’s meeting between the Templars and the Mages was to take place. She had been playing with the daughter of the kind couple who had agreed willingly to take her in while she recovered from a wound received from a confrontation between some rogue Templars and mages. Her amicable Spirit of Hope had left her temporarily, a stirring in the Fade calling her away to scout the situation. Her regular healing would have been sufficient, but she’d run low on lyrium and couldn’t afford to take the rest to heal herself, should anything else happen. So she played with the daughter, Amber, under the guise of a travelling singer who had gotten caught in the fighting.

When the resulting explosion decimated the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she was sure the world was caving in on them.

Red had quickly covered Amber’s smaller body with her own, the outwards force of power shaking even the small village she had found refuge in. Trees were blown apart, smaller buildings obliterated and people flung into surfaces rough and brittle. The terrified screams of the villagers echoed in fear in her own chest, clutching the sobbing child to her chest behind the safety of the well near the girl’s home. She whispered reassuring words in the girl’s ears, hugging her all the tighter as a green light appeared in the clouds above them – a tear in the Fade itself, creating an open bridge between their world, and the world of spirits and demons alike. She could feel the rush of the power shift through her bones, the return of Hope immediate and near painful. The spirit felt scattered in her mind, but she had to remain calm for the child she held in her arms.

It took what felt like days for the air around them to calm, but even then, there was no peace.

She left a scared Amber with her just as fearful parents, telling them she would meet up with the other villagers to try and see what had happened. She’d met up with other able-bodied people in the center of their shaken town, listening to the rumors and the fears and unknown. It wouldn’t be until days later that they received the news of what happened: an explosion in the center of Divine Justinia’s peace talks, a single survivor, thought to be the single suspect for the deaths of all in attendance. They were not clearer on what else happened, or what that meant for the villagers, but it was enough to instill a horror in the center of her chest.

Maker, what was going on?

Red remained with the villagers for a time following the destruction of the Conclave, gathering bits of information as they became available. Members of the newly reformed Inquisition came to the village, recruiting any who would join their cause to close the Breach. She watched as Amber’s father kissed his family goodbye to join them, knowing he had to do all he could to help stop what had upset the balance of their lives. Red nearly joined him, but she knew the ex-Templars who had accompanied the Inquisition would make her for a mage, and she would not be realized before she was able to defend herself (lyrium wasn’t present in the village, therefore she only had her natural stores of magic to keep her going). She stayed with Amber and her mother for a little while longer, helping them out as well as other villagers who required aid in one fashion or another.

She had made a home, however temporary it may have been.

It wasn’t until a little later on that Red had been forced to make haste from the sanctuary she had found herself a part of. Rebel mages had come in the middle of the night, demanding anything and everything from villagers they had awoken with the burning of their lands. There were only three of them, and Red knew she had to do everything in her power in order to remove the bastards who ruined the fragile peace of the people.

She had gathered all of her belongings, leaving a note for Amber and her mother and leaving their humble home, meeting the offending mages with fire in her palms and disquiet in her heart. She conjured a staff made of pure flames, fighting off the attackers with quiet and swiftness, taking them out purely on the anger which sustained her. How dare these monsters attack innocent people, who had no part in the war they maintained? When the last mage fell, she let the fire die out in her palms, standing over the man’s body with shaking fists. She looted their bodies, thankful to find many flasks of lyrium and health poultices, along with a few other valuables and herbs she could use for her own. Before the villagers could stumble upon her and the corpses, she fled into the surrounding woods, tears in her eyes and nowhere to go.

She was left to wander, and while she had loved it before, she couldn’t help but shed a tear for the memories of the keep she had called home for so long. And it upset her even more, to know that home was no longer stealing cakes from the kitchens or sharing a bed with her twin, it was instead the warm laughter of her best friend and the quiet of the Ostwick Circle library. Both of her homes were gone, and she was alone.

She had nothing left, except for the wilderness about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: as the snow falls
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting.tumblr.com)


	7. as the snow falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The collision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooo sorrysorrysorry about the wait! Life and school are kicking my ass. But here is the next chapter, but I don't have the next one written so it's possibly going to be awhile before I can update again. Spring break is in a few weeks, I'm hoping to have the next chapter completed beforehand.
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

Haven was gone. Buried. Damien had managed to fire the trebuchet after giving Corypheus one last line of sass – he had bolted from _whatever the fuck_ the thing had been and managed to fall into an open mine at the last moment.

Though he couldn’t really recall much after literally hitting rock bottom.

When he finally came to, he knew he was off. His vision was hazy at best and he had to have broken at least two of his ribs, if not more. Damien was sure that his entire body was just a giant bruise from the way he felt, and it was too agonizing for words when he started to stand. Maker have mercy, he needed more than a few drinks and healing poultices to recover from this one. If he recovered from this one.

It had taken time but the Herald had found his footing at last, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he started the labored trek forward. He’d managed to fall on the only remaining poultices in his pack and he didn’t even have any bandages to try and patch himself up. The Marcher’s only hope was too find someone who could get him to a healer and fast, and that didn’t seem like it would be happening anytime soon.

Then he ran into more demons and wasn’t that just _grand?_ And, apparently, his hand could learn new tricks. Who knew?

After dealing with the demons, he managed to find the exit to the mining cave and he didn’t know that his heart could drop any further. It was all white – the snow had taken over the mountains, covering everything in sight in feet upon feet of snow. He clutched at his side, the pain from his broken limbs throbbing harshly as he carefully made his way down the stairs. When the snow reached his knees, he rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He’d been in snow all his life, he liked it well enough. This, though? This was fucking ridiculous and his multiple breaks and fractures were just not having it, dammit.

He carried on like the solider he hadn’t been trained to be, moving at a snail’s pace and trying his hardest not to breathe too deeply. Damien felt as if he’d been walking for days, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. If he thought he was exhausted before, well, what was he now?

Dead man walking, that’s what. Maker’s ass, he was numb. The Herald of Andraste could have used some divine intervention, for sure.

It was odd. When his mind started to drift, he knew that couldn’t have been a good sign. Yet, the first thing that came to mind were the big brown eyes of a little freckle-faced girl with dark hair that matched his own, looking up at him with a quizzical expression on her face. For a moment he thought it was Harlowe when she was a little girl, but she was fifteen now, and she had the dark red hair of their Mother.

The memory of his twin stared up at him, and it haunted him more than any of the events of the last few months. Or maybe she was a spirit – with all that was happening, anything was possible. Right? Right. He was losing it.

He didn’t know when he stopped walking, his vision glazing over as the apparition came closer.

“ _What are you doing out here?”_ It asked, the voice a hollow echo of a sound he could not recall. He glared down at the figure, his head starting to spin. He was going to be sick. Sick and dead and frozen.

“I got my ass kicked by a mountain.” He retorted, his speech slurring at the end, tongue numb in his mouth.

“ _That’s a bad word. And mountains don’t move.”_

“You’re not even real, what would you know?”

“ _I know a lot. More than you.”_ Who did this imaginary essence of his twin think it was?

“I outta sit you down and teach you all about how wrong you are, but I can’t feel my legs. Or anything, really. That’s probably not a good thing.” The worried expression washed over the face of his spirit-sister, her small hands lifting to grab his sleeve. He couldn’t feel the pull, but then again, she wasn’t real.

She wasn’t real, and he was dying. He didn’t really feel anything anymore. No cold, no pain, no anything. The last thing he would see before he died was the transparent face of his twin as the last time he saw her, tears welling up in eyes which echoed his own. He wanted to reach forward and wipe the tears away from her cheeks, but he couldn’t really move anything at this point. He’d become stiff as a board in the knee-deep snow.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, his knees finally giving out and he felt his body lurch forward, though he was unconscious before he face-planted into the snow.

* * *

 

Damien opened his eyes slowly to the pitch black sky above him, glittering stars twinkling and the moon a beautiful crescent. He smiled softly, taking in how pretty the afterlife was. Being dead wasn’t so bad, now that he was here. He didn’t hurt and the scenery was nice to look at.

A snort to his left made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Wh-wha-?”

“Calm down, you’re safe. And you’re not dead. It is pretty out here though, I’ll give you that.” The new voice was female, humor spilling into her tone like warm water from a pail being pooled into a bath. Ah, he must have been thinking aloud. “Still are, I’m afraid.” Maker’s balls.

When he finally caught up with himself, Damien sat up from the sleeping bag of furs he’d been tightly bundled into. The rogue could feel his body aching and throbbing in response to his movements, but he didn’t feel as awful as he’d felt when he’d initially fallen into the mine. Fingers flexed about the ends of the furs on top of him, the sudden exposure to the open air sending an intense shiver down his spine. The audible crack his neck made when he moved made him flinch, but it felt oddly comforting being able to actually have sensation returned after having gone numb in the storm.

Speaking of which. “What happened?”

“What happened?” The woman parroted lightly, and he noticed that she was looking towards him, enveloped by a blood-red cloak she had about her and the hood framed in thick fur. It cast a steep shadow over her face to where he couldn’t make out her features. He took in the dark knee-high boots which were crossed at the ankles. The fire crackled warmly between them, and he looked through the flames to try and make out her features. “I found you unconscious in the snow not far from here, half-dead and more than half frozen. I dragged your heavy ass to my camp and it took me too many hours and the rest of my lyrium to make sure you didn’t lose any body parts to hypothermia. You had three broken ribs, now healing, along with multiple other fractures and lacerations, oh – and a concussion, but that was probably obvious from the other stuff.” She had a Free Marches accent, but he couldn’t exactly place it. Varric would be able to tell, but Varric wasn’t here, so.

Wait. “Wait. You healed me? You’re a mage?”

“A spirit healer, and you should be grateful – any other regular healer wouldn’t have been able to save some of your fingers and toes, and you’d be in a lot more pain. Speaking of pain, how are you feeling? Do you think you’re up to eating something?” She stood up, brushing the fallen snow from her leathers and cloak, rummaging around before plopping down at his side. She brushed the curled bangs from his forehead before he could vocalize his surprise. With the mage this close, he could make out her facial features and feel the magic that thrummed around her, as if it were _alive_. It scared him, not that he would admit it.

“Spirit healer?” He didn’t know much of mage specializations, but he’d picked up a bit from Solas, Vivienne and Dorian in his time with them. He took in the light freckles that littered her cheeks and across her nose, and how her eyes were a soft, warm brown that inspected him for any lingering bumps and bruises. When their eyes finally met, the moment was still and thick – an indescribable emotion settled in her face for only a split moment before a small smile took its place, patting his head lightly with a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re cute in your lack of knowledge about mages. I grew up in a circle, it’s still a wonder meeting people who don’t know as much as I do.” She sat back, popping the cork on a health poultice and handing it to him. He took the flask in his hands, realizing that he was missing his gloves and that his mark was dimly glowing in response to their hands brushing. “That’s an interesting fashion statement you have going on, friend.”

“Trust me, I wish I could take it back. If, you know, I remembered how I got it.”

“That must make you the Herald of Andraste person I’ve been hearing about in the villages.” He grimaced at the title, tipping his head back and downing the flask in one swig. He coughed into his hand, some of the mixture trickling down the wrong pipe. The mage flittered about him, worry etching lightly into her features as she took the glass from him before he broke it. “Breathe, breathe, you’re okay.” She muttered to him, patting his back lightly as his coughing fit settled.

“ _Ugh_. I feel like a child, can’t even take a drink.”

“Hey, I think you’re doing pretty great for someone who was almost dead a few hours ago. How did that happen, anyway? I saw the fighting at Haven, I’m assuming it was from the giant dragon or something?”

“You were at Haven?” He didn’t remember seeing her around, and he would have remembered if the mages had brought in had been like her. A spirit healer, or whatever.

“I was on my way to Haven, actually, when you closed the hole in the sky. Good going, by the way.” She shifted off of her knees, sitting on her butt and pulling her knees to her chest so she could sit comfortably. “I saw the army coming and made the decision to disappear into the mountains before the fighting got bad. I’m not much of a fighter, and I got really lucky when I didn’t get buried along with everything else. I’ve been camping out here, just waiting until everything calmed down so I could make a plan on what to do next. I found you when I was hunting rams, and voila, here we are.” She shrugged, finally taking her hood from her face. The flames from the bonfire lit up her skin to show her face clearly, and her hair bled into the night sky behind her, straight bangs cut across her forehead that just covered her eyebrows. She was a really pretty girl, probably around his age.

“I suppose I should really thank you for saving me. You didn’t have to, but you went out of your way and I owe you my life. Literally.” She was shaking her head, arms hugging her knees to her chest and she laid her head on top of them. The stranger was looking up at him with wide eyes, and his mind drifted back to the memory of his sister that he’d spoken to before he’d passed out, and it gave him an ill feeling to be reminded of her. She was dead, according to Aduial a few weeks ago, and he needed to stop thinking about her. It would only hurt more.

It hurt regardless, but still.

“You don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t have opened up myself to a spirit of Hope if I wasn’t all about helping others. Doesn’t really come with the territory, y’know? But you’re welcome, anyway. Now, food?” He eagerly nodded even when his stomach churned at the thought, but he knew he needed to eat in order to garner strength. The mage made up two bowls of the delicious smelling stew she had cooking over the fire, eating quietly beside him as they both stared up at the sky.

It really was beautiful, despite all the horrors of the evening.

“So, can I ask you something?” Damien spoke up later, having made himself eat two bowls of the stew to appease the mage’s concerns that he was actually feeling better. She had gone back to the stump she’d been sitting on when he woke up, staring in the flames before flicking her eyes back over to him.

“Of course.”

“What’s your name?” He had gotten tired of referring to her as ‘the mage’ in his head.

“Red. And you? Or should I just call you Herald?”

“Please don’t, you have no idea how much it drives me crazy to hear literally everyone refer to me as ‘the Herald of Andraste.’ I have a name, but no one seems to care for the first part.” Red snorted at his rambling, but she nodded all the same. “My name is Damien Trevelyan, but Damien is preferred. I tell people that and no one seems to listen. My advisors only encourage the behavior, unfortunately, so it never takes.” A queer emotion had crossed over the girl’s face quicker than he could realize, he let it go as she started rummaging through her bag.

“Well, _Damien_ , I’m under the presumption that you’d like to get back to your little Inquisition as soon as possible. Their main camp is in the mountains, but it’s going to suck getting there with how your body is still healing and all that.” She was packing the smaller things scattered about the small camp, and he realized that she had a lot of stuff with her. He was curious how she carried it all by herself.

“We can move tonight, I feel better despite your persistence that I’m not.” He paused. “Are you going to stay? I mean, are you going to join the Inquisition? You said you were heading to Haven, earlier.” He started to pull his body from the warmth of the furs, wishing he could stay in them till the snow melted and the world was warm again. Alas, they had better places to be, and he wanted to check in with his advisors and companions and make sure that everyone made it out alright. Cassandra, Solas and Bull had been with him to set up the last trebuchet, and he barely remembers telling them to run as the dragon readied to set the surrounding area aflame.

A grunt escaped her as she finished the task she’d been doing. She helped him roll up the furs, securing them to her backpack. The two of them argued over who would carry the damn thing, and Damien ended up winning when _Red_ faltered lightly on her feet from all the healing she had done to him. He felt guilty when he remembered she had used the last of her resources to make sure he survived his injuries, and probably didn’t have much left over.

The thought that this woman had given her all to make sure he lived – a complete _stranger_ – made his chest tight, made it harder to breathe as he watched her start to put out the fire she’d made. She looked back at him, a warm smile making its way onto her pleasant face.

“I did give it thought, yes. If they don’t string me up for being a spirit healer, I’d love to.” Damien furrowed his brows at her statement.

“Why would they do that?”

“Spirit healers are followed by spirts in the Fade. The majority of people would equate that to a demon, and thus non-mages are fearful of the term ‘spirit healer,’ despite the ‘healer’ aspect.” Red shrugged, re-sheathing the daggers in her thigh holsters and letting her cloak fall about her to hide them from view. She’d already thrown on her other packs and pouches, helping Damien put the heavier backpack on as gingerly as possible. She’d also put his own daggers back into their rightful place, patting his shoulder as she stood beside him. “Getting you back is more important, so don’t worry about me.”

“You saved my life, no one’s going to bother you.” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders a few times and wincing as the throbbing settled in his bones. There was only so much magic and healing herbs could do without rest and sleep to consolidate it.

“Sure thing, Damien.” Her disbelief was palpable, but understandable.

“There are a few apostates in the Inquisition, one of them being very understanding of spirits in the Fade. I see you two getting along quite well. We also have the rebel mages as allies, and I’m sure Grand Enchanter Fiona would appreciate someone who has such amazing talents as you do.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.” She motioned to him, and he lifted his arm to rest across her covered shoulders. Her own arm was wrapped firmly about his waist, her free hand grabbing the hand that hung limply off her shoulder. They both needed the support, and the start of their journey began. Red seemed to know where she was going, so Damien followed her lead.

Maker it was so _cold_. He missed the fire and furs already.

“You’d know if I were flattering you. I’m quite obvious.”

“Would that be the infamous charm I’ve heard so much about? You’ve managed to sway many a people to your side, Your Worship.” The healer teased him, her grin matching his own as he let out a laugh that only hurt his ribs marginally.

“You want to see _charm?_ You need to meet my acquaintance, Dorian. You haven’t seen charm until you’ve been in his presence for less than a minute. He’ll charm your socks off, that one.” Thinking about his crush on the Tevinter mage warmed his heart, coupled with Red’s adorably awkward giggle-snort that had him laughing even more, ribs be damned. “That was absolutely adorable. Do it again.”

“ _Pfft_. You lie, ser. No one likes that atrocity that sometimes manages to make its way out of my mouth. It’s awful.”

“Awfully _adorable_.” She groaned as he butted her head lightly with his own. She was pretty short, making the gesture more comical than originally intended.

“Who put you in charge of people? Who thought you were good leadership material? You’re just a giant dork. What am I signing up for?” Their banter continued for a short while as they continued walking through the sloping mountains, the snow still as thick as it had been when he’d left the mining tunnel. After a time their banter drifted into comfortable silence, the girl leading the two of them through some sparse trees and further into the pass. Damien took notice when the mage’s mood took a melancholy turn, looking from the corner of his eye to take in the far-away look in her eyes, the furrow of her brow as she continued to be lost in her thoughts. She caught him looking, cocking an eyebrow in his direction with a squeeze of his waist.

“Something wrong, Herald?”

“Nothing at all, just curious about you is all.”

“About me? I’m not so interesting.” Red scoffed lightly, kicking at the knee-high snow as they slowly trekked through the mountains. “I grew up in the circle in Tantervale, the smallest circle in the Free Marches. I kept to myself, didn’t really have any friends. I don’t remember any family before my time in the circle.” She shrugged her shoulders and he felt the movement through his leathers.

“It’s just nice to know a little more about my savior, that’s all.” He watched as she rolled her eyes, but the smile that graced her face was small but sweet.

“Is this another attempt at flattery? Andraste’s pretty tits you don’t learn, do you?”

“No, ser, I do not.”

They marched on. Well, limped on seemed to be the more accurate term for their journey. As the night carried on and it continued to drop in temperature – was that even possible? – the pair slowed in their movements, both having to lean on one another for support. Damien was still recovering from his near-fatal injuries, and Red had exhausted the last of her stores in order to keep him from dying. The duo had to stop quite a few times to catch their breath, but they kept onward.

Moving, even without getting anywhere, was better than giving up – better than being lost in the snow, left to die.

They came through a pass, Red’s breathing labored as she saddled most of Damien’s weight – the rogue had tripped coming up the embankment and his freshly healed wounds throbbed in reminder. He was barely able to move on his own without his breath hitching in pain, which left the mage, who was nearly a foot shorter than the Herald, to basically drag his dense weight through knee-high snow.

The shouts that were carried up wind seemed like a sign from the Maker himself.

“ _There! It’s him!”_

_“Thank the Maker!”_

Red didn’t mean to collapse into the large dunes of snow, but her knees had buckled beneath their combined mass and she’d taken care to make sure their landing was as pain-free as she could make it. Figures jogged up the pass to meet them, swords drawn and pointing right at her, level with her head. The woman was glaring at her, but the blond man seemed more indifferent to her presence.

“Take him, please – I healed him as best I could, but he needs rest to consolidate the healing. He probably needs to be checked over again as well, he fell when we were coming up the bank.” The recruits looked to the man, their leader give a curt dip of his chin before the soldiers came upon the two, taking the Herald’s now unconscious form and carrying him back to camp. Red was complacent on her knees, looking up at the two remaining figures. Her shoulders sagged, she was too tired to even attempt a fight.

“You’re a mage? What were you doing out here in the mountain?” The short-haired woman’s accent was accusatory and harsh, waving her weapon in Red’s face. The man put out his arm, and his companion grunted lowly before sheathing her weapon as he did.

“Miss, can you explain to us what happened?” The man was a templar, she could sense the lingering lyrium –the way he held himself, she just knew. She’d been surrounded by templars such as him for the past twenty years, yet she felt wary at his calm.

“I made camp in the mountains to avoid the fighting – I had been on my way to Haven to join the Inquisition when the army crossed the top of the mountains. I ran. I’m not much of a fighter, you see, so I thought I would get away when I could.” She was shivering more now without Damien’s heat along her side, she hugged her arms about her torso to try and conserve warmth while she sat stagnant in the snow.

“And how did you find the Herald? You said you healed him?” The man spoke again, his expression curious. _Better than angry_ , she thought to herself.

“I had been hunting ram for food when I came upon his body face-down in the snow. He was so weak, some of his fingers looked lost to the frost. I dragged him back to my fire and used the last of my lyrium so that I could heal him. I…” Red paused, biting her lip and looking down into the white of the snow. “I managed to save him from any long-lasting damage, and if you count them he has all his fingers and toes. I’m a spirit healer, or he’d be missing a few.”

“So you consort with the Fade, have a _spirit_ aligned with you.”

“Cassandra, stand down. The mage is obviously too drained to even _think_ about fighting you.”

“Cullen, this apostate has aligned herself with a spirit of the Fade, and with how everything is going you know that can mean the worst.” _Apostate, mage_ – she had a name (albeit a fake one), Maker take them.

“Seeker, do you not recall that spirit healers are the least likely mages to be possessed? They are protected by the spirits that help them, even from demons. Go to the others, tell them what has happened.” The two glared at one another, the woman letting out a scoff before turning and heading back down the pass. The templar turned his gaze to her, taking note of how she was starting to sway where she sat.

“I apologize for the Seeker’s abrupt nature. It has been a tireless, stressful evening I’m afraid.” The man, Cullen, took a few steps towards her crumpled form, then he took a knee in front of her. “You do not look well.”

“Is it that obvious? For a moment I thought I had you fooled.” The laugh that followed was low and warm, and she watched as he went about unclasping the fur mantle from his shoulders. “Oh, serah, you don’t have to—“

“You’re absolutely freezing, pale about the face and lacking the proper armor to better keep the cold out. Allow me to give you a small purchase of escape from the chill, at least until we get you back to the camp. It looks as if your own cloak has seen better, warmer days.” He waited with his the furs in his hands, giving the mage a small smile as she tipped her chin in a small nod. He brought the cloak about her shoulders and, without much warning, scooped up the woman who let out a surprised gasp at the change in altitude.

“That _definitely_ wasn’t necessary, ser.”

“What? Am I supposed to make you _walk_ back down the hill? You can barely keep your head up.” She could feel the warmth from his body even through the armor and she found herself leaning her head against the crook of his neck, the templar carrying her bridal style back to the Inquisition’s encampment. “What’s your name? Or are we going to have to wait till the Herald gains consciousness to gain your trust?”

“Red, ser. And you should really listen to Damien when he tells you he prefers to go by his name. He’s going to have words with you lot whenever he wakes up.” Her eyes were starting to droop, she couldn’t even remember the last time she slept or felt refreshed. Being in the templar’s arms was a nice change of pace from fighting for her life and saving someone else’s.

“We address him as the Herald for political purposes. We know how much he dislikes it, despite his belief in the Maker and Andraste. He’s done a lot of good for the Inquisition, and unfortunately, he will have to continue in his virtuous endeavors.”

“At least he has good people like you to support him.” Her voice was soft, contemplative. “Cullen, was it? You’re a good man, just as Damien is. Just as that scary Seeker was, you’re all good people. I hope I can help as much as you all have.”

“You still wish to join the Inquisition?” He tone held surprise, and curiosity. The lights and movements of the camp were visible before them, a few more soldiers coming up to relieve Cullen of his charge.

“I do, if the Inquisition will have me.” She was too tired now, her head laying heavily upon his shoulder. Cullen stopped in his movements, looking down to the mage he held in his arms. She needed rest, and to have another healer see to her. His mind was racing to organize his thoughts, but the small yawn that came from Red distracted him and stilled his thoughts temporarily.

“We would be glad to have you among our ranks. Now, I’m going to let these recruits take you to the healers. You’ll be able to rest and regain your strength, don’t worry about anything.” He felt the slight nod of her head, before he was letting the soldiers take the woman from his arms. “You can’t keep the mantle, I expect that back as soon as you are able”

“No promises, serah.” And the men took her away at his gesture, and his eyes followed their path to the healer’s tents on the far side of the camp.

This night had been too long, and he still had things to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: interlude - qualms
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting.tumblr.com)


	8. interlude - qualms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ebb in the flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. surprise?
> 
> This was not reviewed by anyone else: all mistakes are mine own.

The progress of Skyhold seemed to have advanced as the group arrived back to its ancient grounds. The group from Haven had been led to the fortress only a few months ago, and the reconstruction and bolstering of the Inquisition’s numbers grew more and more each day as those who believed flocked to their gates.

Inquisitor Trevelyan – who so loathed his knew title it was _ridiculous_ – arrived back at the stables with his companions, greeting Master Dennet and taking care of his mount before parting ways. Cassandra went on her own way back to the War Room to greet the advisors, and Dorian left to his own chambers to clean up after the trek back from the Emerald Graves. Damien and Varric were left wandering back up to the main hall, making idle talk as they wound down from the stress from their journey.

“She’s looking mighty fine, isn’t she?”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Skyhold, Varric. And yes, the work being done is moving at an impeccable rate, it’s astounding.” Damien walked with his hands clasped behind his back, craning his neck to take in all of the new additions to their home. There was still a lot to get done, but it was looking more and more renowned as time passed. They’d only been gone just shy of a month, but everything was looking better and more stable, people running around with their duties on hand. He watched as some of the soldiers practiced and trained – watched as some mages took in their hand-to-hand combat with quick, excited whispers. The Inquisition was becoming more of a family, a home: Damien hadn’t believed they could, at first, but was happy to be proven wrong.

But would it be enough to stop Corypheus?

“Hey, Inquisitor, you okay? You kinda got lost there for a hot minute.” Varric’s words snapped the Herald out of his own thoughts, and he realized they were standing outside of the doors to the main hall. Damien could take in more of their surroundings, and he waved to Sera who was sitting outside her little sanctuary in the Herald’s Rest.

“I’m fine, Varric, just taking in the view...” His words trail off as he spots a figure walking across the battlements aside Cullen’s office. The figure was definitely not a soldier, and they seemed to be carrying a stack of books and files towards the Commander’s office. He could just make out the dark, thick braid that trailed down her back, the profile of her face.

“Ah, Freckles – going to see our beloved Commander.”

“ _Freckles?”_

“Red, Inquisitor. I had to give her a nickname, I already have a Red in my ledger.” The dwarf shrugged, getting a far-off look on his face for a moment before regaining himself. “And she has the cutest set of freckles, but don’t tell Bianca I was talking about another girl. She’d have my hide.” Damien snorted, given that Varric had Bianca in her holster at the moment. He would probably never truly understand the dwarf, but he supposed he was okay with that.

“What do you think about her, Varric?” Damien asked, nonchalant. Back in the mountains before Solas had pulled him aside and told him of Skyhold, Red had been lightly questioned by the advisors and a few of his other companions before being allowed a trial run within the Inquisition. Most of them had not been happy with the idea of another apostate joining their ranks, but her superb healing abilities had saved a lot more lives than they would have been able to without her. The children that the Inquisition protected also took to her like flies to honey, and on the way to Skyhold they had flocked about her to ask her a million questions. Their parents hadn’t been pleased, either, but allowed it because of the work Red had done to help others.

“To be honest, Inquisitor? She’s hiding something.” Varric paused, gauging Damien’s reaction before continuing on. “Now, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, if you remember my own ‘transgressions’ with Hawke.” Cassandra still refused to speak to Varric outside of battle, still hurting, still healing. The dwarf was more than willing to give the Seeker her space. “Just because she’s still closed off, doesn’t mean she won’t thaw out to us eventually. She’s been nothing but helpful, though watching her train before we left for the Graves had been hilarious. Maker’s ass, she wasn’t kidding when she said she wasn’t much of a fighter. She fights without a staff and does better without it, but that’s something else entirely. Freckles saved a lot of lives, Inquisitor: while I may not trust her completely, I trust that she’s here to help.”

“So basically you have mixed feelings.”

“Got to remain impartial sometimes, Heartthrob.” Damien groaned at the nickname Varric had bestowed on him on the way back. Something about making the village ladies swoon when they passed through each and every village. They didn’t _swoon_.

“Maker’s breath, dwarf.” One of Leliana’s messengers hurried up the stairs to greet the two, thumping his chest with his fist in the customary greeting.

“Your Worship, the Nightingale requests your attention at your earliest convenience.”

“Thank you, ser.” The man left without another word, the two left standing sharing a look before laughing.

“Is it back to work with you? We just got back!”

“Well, would you tell Leliana that you need a beauty nap after she’s asked to see you?

“Oh fuck no – I like living, contrary to the work I’m involved with.” Varric gave Damien a quick wave as he made his way into the main hall, leaving Damien by himself at the top of the stairs to watch the bustling life that moved around him. He chanced glancing back up at the battlements, but Red had already disappeared with her armful of things. An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of the stomach, doubt entering his mind.

Had he done the right thing? Could she be trusted?

* * *

 

“Ah, Inquisitor – how was the ride back?” Damien had met up with Leliana in the rookery not long after parting ways with Varric, getting the Spymaster’s most recent reports on Corypheus and other important matters that needed his immediate attention. He’d parted ways with her, promising to make his way to the War Room before sunset, giving her a curt nod before descending down the stairs. He had paused in the library to speak with Fiona about his trip to the Graves before politely excusing himself and heading further down the stairs.

“Well, outside of constantly being barraged by random outlaws and the occasional grouping of Red Templars, it wasn’t completely horrible.” Damien found himself sitting on Solas’ center desk, watching the elf continue his work on the solar mural – it was coming along quite well, mostly done by the looks of it, only needing a few more touch ups and details.

“No one was too injured, I hope?”

“Dorian fell off of his mount, but came out mostly unscathed.” That got a chuckle out of the Fade expert, the elf finally turning around to face the Inquisitor. “How has Skyhold been since we’ve been gone?”

“More and more people flock to the Inquisition with every passing day. Reconstruction is moving smoothly, people are still unnerved but currently content. The spirits that once inhabited this place are still gone, but a few have returned with the commotion of the people. I’ve had quite a few fascinating conversations with the spirit healer, Red. She embodies a spirit of Hope, one that is rare to encounter, even in my wanderings.” Damien couldn’t help the twitch of his eye at the mage’s name, which didn’t escape Solas’ notice. “You do not trust her, despite the fact that she saved your life.”

“I trust her intentions, but who is she, really?” Damien started, hands gesturing in front of him as Solas put away his things. The apostate came to stand by the Inquisitor, wiping his hands on a rag he’d picked up from his desk. “I haven’t gotten the time to talk to her, not with all of the meetings with the advisors and the last few weeks in the Emerald Graves. What do you make of her, truly?”

“She has a history, but is there a single person among our closer companions that does not? She is a rarity among all, one who is open-minded to all types of people, no bias in who she helps, in who she assists. We have had many conversations about spirits and the Fade, and her time in the Circle opposed to my experience journeying in the wilderness. If you want my honest opinion, Inquisitor, I believe she can be trusted. She is here of her own accord, as I am, and only wishes to help to the best of her ability.” Solas paused, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts. “I believe, with a little training, she could accompany us on our travels – it would be beneficial to have a healer among us, if you and the others would be amenable to the idea.”

“You want her to join us? To join the inner circle?” The thought surprised Damien, to say the least.

The elf gave a nod of his head. “With some time, and more advanced combat training, she could be a great asset to the Inquisition. Though I understand your hesitation, and your reluctance.”

“No, I appreciate your thoughts, Solas. I will take it into consideration, and ask the others on their opinions as well.”

“Do mind to actually speak to the woman, Inquisitor, she is likely to notice if you go about asking everyone their opinion of her without speaking to her as well.”

Well, shit.

* * *

 

“My opinion? On Red?” Damien had caught Blackwall in the stables, working on his Griffon woodwork – which was honestly the cutest thing – and watching as he became flustered before relaxing. The Warden sat with Damien and talked awhile before the newest addition to their company was brought up.

“According to Solas, she might make a fine companion one of these days. I was wanting to get everyone’s opinions before I asked her if she’d entertain the idea.” Blackwall took his time, mulling the idea over in his mind. Damien took to watching random people walking by the barn, taking in their interactions with a small smile. They seemed so at peace, for the time being.

“I think, given the time and proper training regiment, she could be a decent companion in the field. But, Maker’s balls, have you seen her train? She’s like a newly-born hart, that one – all uncoordinated yet oddly graceful.” Blackwall nodded, crossing his arms loosely over his chest and looking out to the stables where Master Dennet was taking care of a few of the newer mounts that had been brought in. “She’s a healer, but you should have seen some of the mageling’s faces when she conjured a wall of fire outside of Skyhold. It was more intense and vibrant than one of Dorian’s – and that’s saying something, given the lad’s tendency for the dramatic. Give her time and patience, and she might be a formidable ally yet.”

“Thank you, Blackwall, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Inquisitor.”

* * *

 

“The healer? Red, she calls herself – what kind of a name is that? What is it you wish to know?” Damien had strolled over to the training dummies where the Seeker could be found on a daily basis, already back at her training a few days after their return from the Emerald Graves.

“I would just like your opinion of her, Cassandra. It’s been brought up that she might be able to accompany us one day in our travels.” The sour expression commanded the entirety of the warrior’s face, dark eyebrows scrunched together with her facial scars pulled taught in the skin of her cheeks.

“I do not think she should be trusted. I do not think she should even _be_ here, Damien. Mages of her nature – who are so inclined to keep to themselves – we should remain wary of. Solas is an exception, as he saved your life and has knowledge of the Fade that we are now privy to. _She_ , on the other hand, is an enigma. None of the other mages know who she is – even the few Tantervale mages that have come to us have never heard of her. She has lied about where she’s from, and she does not deserve to be here. The others have shown their worth, but what has she done?”

“Besides saving my life when she could have left me in the snow to die? Besides helping the other healers to save more lives than they would have been able to without her special skillset? Cassandra, she’s garnered a place here. I know you’re distrustful of her, and I respect your opinion, but you can’t possibly think that she hasn’t earned a place here.” The reminder of Damien’s life in the Frostbacks after Haven forced Cassandra’s face to relax just a tad, shoulders dropping just an inch. The woman seemed regretful of her words, but still firm in her belief.

“You are right, and I apologize. But still, I do not trust her, Inquisitor. However, I trust your judgement, and should you ask her to join us on our travels, I will do my best to not antagonize the mage.”

“You are just a doll, you know that?”

“Now you’re just talking crazy again, Inquisitor. Leave me to my training, lest I use _you_ for a dummy.”

* * *

 

“ _Oooo_ she’s a cute one, isn’t she? Though, she’d be much cuter without the spark and flare, yeah?” Damien had joined the archer for a pint in the Herald’s Rest tavern, the blonde bumping shoulders with him with a shit-eating grin if he ever did see one. “Mages everywhere, your imperial-ness, I don’t know what you see in the lot of them.”

“Not every mage is out to get you, Sera.”

“Did you know that Varric calls her _Freckles?_ Freckles! The cutest thing, that. I mean she isn’t the only person in this place with freckles but her? Inquisitor _. Freckles_. Ch’yea.” He watched as the elf took a hefty swing of her pint, laughing as she made a show of wiping her mouth off with the back on her hand, to some other patron’s chagrin.

“Besides how _cute_ you think she is, what else do you think of her? I’d like your opinion.” Sera gave him a queer look, eyebrows pulled down in confusion.

“My opinion? Oh, sir high-and-mighty I could give you a hell of an opinion. I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her, yeah, and she’s too curvy for me to throw her too far. Sure she’s pretty and what-not but she _lies_ about everything! And who names their kid Red, anyway? That’s a _color_ , not a bloody proper name. I mean it’s nice that she heals people, and she’s nice to the kids – nicer than most the other people who see them as nothing but bothers...” the rogue paused, biting her lower lip as she tossed the thoughts in her head in the odd way he’d come to adore. He could see the emotions dart through her bright eyes, the doubt of her initial opinion. It seems most of his companions had mixed feelings, and he thought that was fair considering he was just as torn as they were, apparently.

“Sera?” He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own. He caught the rapid blinking, the return of her normal spark and the upward pull of one corner of her lips.

“Maybe she isn’t totally shite, definitely not like Coryphyarse, but you should beware, Inquisitor. There be _mages_ ‘ere.” Sera set down her pint to make a show of wagging her fingers in front of her, to emphasize her words. She gave a snort at Damien’s cocked eyebrow, giving him a punch to the shoulder with a grin. “I trust you, Inquisy. If you like her, that’s good enough for me.”

* * *

 

“Hey there, Boss! Come sit a spell, we’ll get you another drink.” Bull motioned the Inquisitor over to his self-designated corner, a few of the Chargers lounging about with drinks of their own. Sera had oh-so politely excused herself after thinking of a prank to pull on some of the soldiers and had left Damien shaking his head with a laugh. The Qunari had caught his eye as he pushed himself away from the bar, returning his large grin with a smile of his own as he made his way over.

“Hey Bull, hey guys.” Damien gave a nod to the Chargers who sat nearby, receiving nods and salutations in return. The noble dropped into a chair next to the horned mercenary, crossing his stretched out legs at the ankle in true leisurely fashion.

“I’ve been hearing some interesting stuff, Boss.” Bull started as one of the barmaids brought Damien a new pint with a smile, quickly leaving to refresh more of the Charger’s drinks. “Care to enlighten me as to why you’re running around Skyhold like a nug with its head cut-off, asking about the new mageling we brought with us awhile back?”

“Ah, putting your spy prowess to use, eh?” Bull let out a chortle before down the rest of his drink, giving the Inquisitor a side-eye from his one good eye.

“You’re not exactly running around in secret, Boss. What’s up?”

Damien gave a noncommittal shrug, taking a drink of his ale before sighing. “I’ve just been going around and asking the others how they feel about Red becoming an upstanding member of our inner circle. So far it’s been roughly fifty-fifty concerning her loyalty and her admittance into our traveling convoys.” The Inquisitor paused, swirling his swill momentarily before looking back to Iron Bull. “I respect your opinion, Bull – what do you think?”

“I think you already have your mind made up, Inquisitor.” The Qunari stated, turning in his chair to more squarely face Damien. “I know you’ve been asking everyone’s thoughts on the matter, but have they really been having an effect? Have the opinions of our group actually altered your thoughts on Red? She saved your life Boss, you feel like you owe her – it’s why you’re giving her the benefit of the doubt, letting her stay in the Inquisition when the information she’s provided about herself has proved to be false. We don’t know who she is, where she’s from or why she was in the mountains at Haven. She could be a spy for Corypheus, or she could just be a wandering apostate like Solas.” Damien sat further back in his chair, eyebrows scrunched together in deep thought.

“Bull, by the sound of it _you’re_ fifty-fifty on whether or not she’s material for our inner circle.”

“Boss if I thought she was an actual threat I would have told you already. I was just telling you your own thoughts, because it seems like you’re trying to hide your own notions by filling your head with everyone elses.” Bull downed the rest of his drink, motioning for the serving girl to come back over. “Honestly, if you think she’s capable of joining us, then that’s your prerogative. You’re the boss, Boss.” Damien nodded at the spy’s words, getting up slowly from his chair. He pat the tank of a qunari on the shoulder, giving him a small _‘thanks_ ’ before exiting the Herald’s Rest to return to the main hall. He had a lot to contemplate, and a few more people to chat with.

* * *

 

“Oh you must let me tell you of the time when I first came into my magic. My mother had been absolutely terrified when – oh, Inquisitor! To what do we owe the pleasure of being enlightened by your presence?” Dorian had been gesturing is hands widely, classic grin lighting up his handsome features as he watched Damien finish ascending the last of the stairs into the small, circular library. Damien paused in his steps towards the mage, realizing that his listener was the very person he had been coming to discuss. The long-haired woman turned in the plush chair to face the newcomer, giving Damien a small, close-lipped smile as he finally started closer to the pair.

“Just wondering what all the noise was – I could hear you all the way down in the foyer, Dorian.” Damien joked, coming to stand between the two mages, arms crossed lazily across his chest. Red hid her snort of laughter behind her gloved hand, Dorian doing no such thing to hide his amusement at the Inquisitor’s words.

“I was just telling my lovely companion here about when I was first coming into my magic. We’ve been exchanging tales for, oh, hours now I believe.”

“You’ve had me glued to this chair with your enthusiasm, Ser Dorian. I do very much enjoy our conversations.” Red’s smile lit up her face like a sunrise – slowly, and then much more brightly was the emotion expressed on her face. Damien forgot how pretty the spirit healer was, having been absent from Skyhold and shamefully avoiding her when he could.

“As do I my darling. Of course, it isn’t uncommon for others to be enraptured by me. I am _me_ after all.”

“Says the horse which bucked you off whenever possible.” Dorian let out an indignant huff at her words, and Damien watched as the woman stretched her arms above her head with small _pops_ audible from her shoulders. “I do believe, however, that I must take my leave. I promised the Commander I would bring him the weekly reports and I think I’m already late for our meeting.” She stood from her chair fluidly, leaning over to give Dorian a quick peck to his cheeks, the Tevinter returning the gesture before she pulled away. She turned to Damien, giving him another small smile. “Inquisitor.” She nodded before heading for the stairs that led down into Solas’ solar. Both of the men watched her leave, before their gazes inevitably found one another.

“Rather close, you two are.” Damien said, finding himself filling the now vacant seat across from the man he’d found himself rather fond of over the last few months.

“Jealous are we, Inquisitor?” Dorian crossed his right leg over his knee, relaxing into the plush chair with a practiced ease. “No need, as Red is – unfortunately – not my type. She is wonderful company, though – a great conversationalist.”

“I see that you are fond of her, yes.” Damien wouldn’t admit that he actually _was_ a tad envious of how easy-going the pair were, but was settled by the mage’s following statement. “What do the two of you speak of?”

“At first we clashed – often having aggravated debates about circle mages and Tevinter mages, as most mages are ought to do. Of course, that was until we started sharing our ideals on how a combined circle might go – a school for mages all about Thedas, where the students aren’t prisoners and are free to learn their magic in a safe, nurturing environment. To aspire to careers for once they are old enough, no more god-awful Harrowings. She mentioned that Templars could still be involved, to oversee the learning but only for the rare occasion which a mage might actually be a threat, to themselves or others. And thus our conversations grew, and before you arrived we were speaking of our childhoods, of when we first came into our magic, so on and so forth.”

“I’m happy to see you two getting along. Red, ah, doesn’t seem to have made very many close friends in her time with us.” Damien caught Dorian’s eye, and he knew that the mage could sense his discomfort, that he understood what he really meant.

“Because she is secretive of her origins – I am aware of the general population’s reservations about our resident spirit healer. I was wary myself, as is natural, but she’s really not so-scary. The children love her, I’ve seen. And who are we to mistrust the natural, innocent inclinations of children?” Damien could only nod to the other man’s words, linking his hands with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.

“So if I were to offer her a chance to come along on our queries, you wouldn’t be opposed?” Dorian raised a neat eyebrow at the Inquisitor’s words, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

“No, I suppose not. But have you seen the poor girl fight? We have a training session set up for tomorrow, to try and remedy her inexperience. She’s better at _actual physical brawling_ than she is with her magic, at least in a real, fight-inclined setting. Leliana wants to give her tips on how to use daggers, but she’s a _mage_ and with the right direction, she could be a damn good battlemage.” Dorian gave pause, looking over the Inquisitor with a thoughtful expression. “But enough about Red – how have _you_ been, Damien? It’s been a few days since our return, what pretty little thoughts have you been entertaining?” The rogue couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face, Dorian’s honest concern warming him deep within his chest.

Damn feelings.

* * *

 

The Inquisitor had eventually found his way towards the battlements a few days later, the sunset vivid and beautiful over the mountains and the walls of Skyhold. He’d been in meetings all day with concerns of the Red Templars and Samson, their Lieutenant. They’d be making another trip to the Graves in a few days to follow-up on some rumors and maybe look into some things for Fairbanks.

He took a deep breath, letting the air rush deeply into his lungs, letting the thoughts and worries leave him for just a few moments.

“She calls and he doesn’t listen – _can’t_ – and she can’t reach out, not now, not ever.” The voice from behind him startled Damien so much he had to brace himself on the edge of the battlements, hand over his raving heart as he met the wide eyes of Cole, perched on the wall on the balls of his feet. “Why doesn’t he listen?” the rogue finishes, cocking his head to the side in wonder.

“Maker, Cole! You have to stop sneaking up on people like that.”

“You’re hurting, Inquisitor. Why are you hurting? I want to help.” Damien sighed, letting his posture relax as he then leaned against the wall for support.

“Cole, there are some hurts you can’t heal with a laugh or a hot meal. Sometimes you just have to hurt, and remember that you can keep going.” The spirit – or whatever Cole was, no one was sure – only continued to look more confused puzzled at Damien’s words.

“Buy _why_ do you hurt? Your pain is like a thick thrumming in a confined space, aching – like a sore you can’t get rid of. You feel it more often, from time to time – like when we found you, after Haven, and every time you receive a letter from your family. It lingers, especially when they’re written by your sister. Why does the thought of your family, why do they make you hurt?” Damien’s face had gone pale at Cole’s words, the slight shaking of his hands causing him to ball them into tight fists to try and make them stop.

He took a moment, taking in a few calming breaths before unclenching his hands. “Let’s not talk about this now, Cole. Maybe sometime in the future, but most certainly not now.”

“I’m sorry, Damien. I just wanted to help you hurt less. You have so much on your shoulders – I thought I might help.” Damien gave the kid a small smile, relaxing more.

“It’s alright, Cole. Did you have something else you wanted to talk about, or did you just try to scare me initially for shits and giggles?” The blonde climbed down from the wall to shuffle next to the Inquisitor, mimicking his pose on the next wall. He had his face hidden beneath the brim of his large hat, picking at his hands.

“Questions, questions – all these questions but no real answers. Why does he ask these things, when I’m here, in plain sight?” Damien’s stomach turned, he knew where this was leading. “In plain sight, that’s the problem. I’m here but unwanted, unsure, untested.” Cole stopped, looking up from the coverage of his hat to make eye contact with the Inquisitor. “You’ve been asking questions about Hope, about Red.”

“Hope?” Damien’s eyebrows closed together in confusion.

“The spirit who helps Red heal. With magic. They work together and they heal physical hurts, and hurts of the heart – the children adore her, with her long hair and pretty laugh and sweet songs. But the adults, even the others – no one truly trusts her, except maybe Cullen and Dorian. I believe even Solas trusts her more than the others, which is… odd, for him.”

Damien looked out at the horizon, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. He knew the others he considered close had taken notice of his inquiries of the spirit healer, but for even Cole to take notice – and why wouldn’t he? He could read people’s _minds_ – it meant Red probably knew.  A pit of guilt settled into his chest, knowing his actions probably made the made feel more isolated than she already did.

“I was just asking the others what they felt about letting Red join us on our travels. Though, maybe just asking her about her opinion on the matter might have been a better fit. She might not want to even travel with us, given her abilities.”

“I think she could help.” Cole had returned to picking at his hands, though his gaze had found the specific tower of Skyhold where he knew Red stayed, where she laid her head at night in a place where only children and a few others trusted her.

How lonely that must be.

Damien placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, nodding slowly. “I believe you, Cole. Thank you.” They stayed on the battlements for another hour or so, observing the people of the Inquisition in companionable silence.

* * *

 

“So my dear, what brings you up here on this lovely morning?” Vivienne lounged on the chaise in the balcony she had claimed for herself in Skyhold, open parchment in her lap and a cup of freshly brewed tea cupped between her hands. Damien took a moment to relax into the comfy chair, one leg crossed over the other as he watched Vivienne’s dark eyes observe him. “You seem pensive, Inquisitor.”

“What are your opinions on Red, Vivienne?” A low chuckle escaped the enchanter as she gently placed the half-filled cup on the small table next to her.

“I was wondering when you would be making your way towards me, dear. I don’t know whether or not I should be disappointed that you came to me so late.” The grimace that marred Damien’s face had Vivienne laughing softly. “You didn’t think you could trapeze about Skyhold without your people taking notice, did you? Of course, only those considered closer to you know of what you’re going on about – and Red, of course, poor thing.” Damien left his face fall into his gloved hands, letting out a despondent sigh.

“I didn’t mean to make her feel isolated, I swear. I’m just asking everyone’s opinion on whether or not she would make a good travelling companion.”

“Why did you not just ask her, Inquisitor? She is capable of speech, though she and I have hardly entertained conversation. I’ve heard I can be quite intimidating.” The mage gave a calculated close-lipped smile, gathering the papers in her lap to set them aside as she sat up on the chaise. “My personal belief is that she would be beneficial on longer outtings, where health poultices would grow short after a time. Maybe not as an official combatant, which of course would make having her along more dangerous, for her and the others in the group. Having to look out for a teammate causes one to be less focused and more likely to make mistakes.”

“I know she’s been training, and Dorian has decided to help further her natural affinity for fire.”

“Ser Pavus does fancy dramatic flair, yes. But unlike all the others you travel with, she has considerably less fighting experience. And, we simply don’t have the time to baby her while we’re fighting Corypheus.” Vivienne paused in her words, looking out to the outer balcony for a moment before sighing softly. “I’ll admit, she has promise – she’s clearly circle trained, and with proper training and time we could shape her into a fine warrior. However, time is not on our side, as you’ve noticed.” Damien could only nod at her words, staring down at the floor in silence.

“So is your official word that she _shouldn’t_ join us? Because everyone I’ve asked has essentially said they don’t know, and I need all the help I can get.”

The mage stayed quiet for a few minutes, mulling over her thoughts in her mind. The time that passed had Damien twisting his covered hands together, biting his lower lip. He could feel Vivienne’s eyes on his hands, specifically one his left hand that held the Anchor, the scar that allowed him to do things not even regular mages could accomplish.

He hated it.

“If I had an honest say, I would say that the benefits of having Red out in the field with us outweigh the risks. Having a competent spirit healer in our group would greatly decrease the likelihood of someone becoming more fatally injured, with the more dangerous forces that Corypheus is throwing at us. I believe, if trained now and during your travels, she could hold her own and contribute even more to the Inquisition than she already has.” The look of surprise was obvious on Damien’s face, jaw dropped just slightly in awe of Vivienne’s commendation.

“I…” Damien was at a loss, and Vivienne could only offer a small smile as consolation.

“I live to surprise, Inquisitor.” The mage stood from her seat, allowing her hand to rest on Damien’s shoulder for a brief moment. “I believe you have one more meeting to make, before you ruin any chance you might have of having our newest friend tag along for your adventures.”

“Thank you, Madame de Fer.”

“Anytime, darling. Now run along, I have more readings to catch up on.”

* * *

 

Damien found Red later that day, after hours spent in the war room with his advisors. It was dark out, but after some sneaking about (like the true rogue he was, dammit) he managed to find the healer in the barn, brushing one of the hart mounts while humming softly. He stood in the shadows of the side door, casually watching as the mage pet and groomed the large hart with a soft smile on her face. She emitted such a warm, open aura – it was a surprise that the entirety of the Inquisition hadn’t fallen to their knees at her feet.

Of course, in times like these, beauty and kindness weren’t the most important factor for a person to have.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Damien called out, noting the slight jump in Red’s shoulders as she turned to catch his gaze. He watched her eyebrows push together before she lowered her arms from the hart, placing the brush on the tabletop and giving one last pat to the majestic creature.

“Her name is Revas, an elven word meaning ‘freedom.’ Don’t you think that’s befitting, Inquisitor?” the dark-haired mage asked, motioning for Damien to follow her to the table. She took a seat and he followed suit behind her, sitting next to her as a low fire crackled in the hearth nearby. It provided enough light to read her expressions by, and he could see the wariness in her eyes.

“You know why I’m here,” he started after a moment, and he watched the small smile that had played at her mouth disappear into a frown. “I promise you, it’s not to tell you you’re kicked out of the Inquisition or anything. But Maker, I’m sure you’ve thought that once or twice since I’ve been back from the Graves.” Red shrugged her shoulders in response, letting one arm cross her chest to clutch at the fabric of her sleeve.

“It would be your prerogative, being the Inquisitor and Herald and everything.” He was reminded of how little he’d interacted with her since their arrival to Skyhold – he’d nearly forgotten what her voice sounded like, with all the avoiding he’d been doing. The guilt he’d felt in his chest the day before seemed to tense tenfold at the memory of Red’s unending kindness, and how she’d nearly killed herself in the mountains to save his life, a total stranger at the time.

To be honest, he still was a stranger to her. And it was all his fault.

“I’m so sorry, Red. I never meant to make you feel so… alienated. I know it probably doesn’t seem that way, and yeah, I’ve been a complete and utter blighter towards you. But I have no intentions of making you leave Skyhold if you don’t want to.” Red’s expression didn’t change, and she kept her gaze directed at the table instead of looking at his face. “I, um… I’ve actually come to ask you a question.”

“And what question would that be, Inquisitor? You haven’t really wanted to be associated with me since we got here. Well, no one really wants to be associated with me outside of Dorian, who’s presence is also unwanted, and Cullen, who can barely remember to eat on a semi-regular basis much less remember which faceless nobody is taking him his paperwork, and the children who apparently don’t know any better.” The sudden change had Damien’s eyes widening in surprise as Red spilled her innermost thoughts and finally met his gaze, her eyes – that were so eerily close to his own – were heated with unshed tears. Her voice warbled with her emotions, a mix of anger and sadness and all the lack of confidence she’d been feeling since the Inquisition’s arrival to Skyhold. Her voice had remained quiet as to not attract attention, but Damien felt as if he was feeling the full force of a hurricane in her words.

He was utterly speechless, and horrified at what his actions had caused.

They sat side-by-side, seated in the sound of the crackles of the fire as they both nurtured their thoughts. Damien felt hollowed out, his hands feeling numb despite the borderline painful thrum in his left palm. He could see that Red was wrenching her fingers in the fabric of her tunic sleeve, biting her lip in a similar fashion to himself when he was nervous or unsure.

“Red, I truly am sorry. I came to talk to you tonight, not only to offer you my sincerest apologies – because you definitely deserve more than one – but to also offer you a spot in the inner circle, the freedom to travel with us when we go out on different requisitions and missions. Another mage would accompany us at all times while you’re with us, to help you further your combat skills so that you can better defend yourself.” He paused, letting his hands twist in his lap as he thought over his next few thoughts. “I know you grew up in a circle – and probably haven’t had any opportunities to travel. I know fighting Corpyheus isn’t opportune sight-seeing, but maybe you’d get to enjoy seeing new places, meet new people? You haven’t left Skyhold since—“ Damien found himself cut off by an abrupt sound of laughter coming from Red, the girl holding her arms across her sides as she doubled over in laughter.

Damien was thoroughly confused as to what was so funny.

It took Red a few minutes to calm down from her laughing spell, wiping away the tears that had accumulated at her lashes. She looked to Damien with a quirked eyebrow and a grin.

“You’re the first person who’s actually shown concern over the fact that for most of my life, I’ve been surrounded by stone walls with little options with where I could take my life. You’ve shown that concern in a really odd way, but in a weird way I appreciate it?” She pat his shoulder lightly, giving him a more confident smile. “If you think I won’t burn down Thedas in our march against Corypheus, I’d love to join you on your travels. I think it’s kind of appalling that you don’t have a healer with you already. Not demeaning Solas and his abilities, but it’s not his specialty and his gifts are better spent in other disciplines.” Damien slowly grew to match Red’s smile, even putting his hand out for her to shake in agreement. She took it firmly, and the rogue seemed to feel something almost familiar in the touch.

“Glad to finally have you along, Red. I know you’ll be a great asset in our travels.” The smile they shared matched in hesitance and fondness.

“Happy to help.”

* * *

 

Raleigh watched her brother walk from the barn, back into the guarded shadows of Skyhold’s castle. She remained at the entrance to the barn, leaning a shoulder against the pane as she waited until the back of the Inquisitor left her view.

She buried her face in her hands, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

“What are you doing, you stupid, stupid girl? Maker, I’m a fool…” the mage muttered to herself, letting her arms cross over her chest to try and hold herself together. She hadn’t meant to explode at Damien – it had all just fallen out, like a dam breaking through a storm.

She had felt isolated since their coming to Skyhold. The stares and whispers sometimes got too much, and she would have to steal away some time in a storage closet or somewhere private to let the panic settle and her breathing return to normal. Was this what it was like, living as an apostate? To be publically ridiculed and hated, she wondered how others survived.

Maker, she’d missed her brother. He was so close – he’d been sitting _right next to her_ for goodness sake – and yet, he couldn’t be further away.

She was so proud of him, it warmed her aching heart.

The last few month had been such a clusterfuck, she didn’t really know where to begin. From leaving her decimated circle, traveling through Ferelden, the breach, Corpyheus’ army, finding her twin’s half-frozen corpse in the snow – it was too much, too much to take in.

The night she’d found him, it was as if she’d found herself in a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.

She had dragged him back to her camp, settled him onto her furs and immediately set to healing his frostbite and the worst of his internal injuries. She worked and worked and worked, sweating in the freezing cold trying to make sure the stranger she was helping didn’t die.

It wasn’t until she was cleaning blood from his face and neck that she’d seen the necklace, the hourglass filled with sapphire dust, that she realized who the man she had saved really was. Raleigh would never tell a single soul of how she’d immediately started to openly sob, letting her arms wrap themselves around his neck, holding her cheek to his snow-covered curls as she let her heart and her eyes cry.

He still wore it. He still remembered her. The thought only made her cry even more.

Raleigh wiped a tear from her eye, looking back into the muted fire before taking off into the dark on her own. The memories from the last few months flew by in her mind as she made her way back to her room, letting the conversation from the last few minutes replay in her mind.

Damien had offered her a place in his inner circle. With his closest companions, with the friends he’s made since Haven. Even when he had been (obviously) avoiding her and even sneaking around to his friends to ask about her (as if that wasn’t suspicious as hell) she’d worried about him. She always worried, but could never openly do so. She was lucky none of the mages from the Ostwick circle had made their way to Skyhold, which both upset her and gave her a sense of relief. It means less people escaped from the carnage than she’d hoped, but it meant she could keep her secret a little while longer.

She’d been exceptionally lucky, in that regard.

“Red?” a familiar voice called out to her as she scaled the stairs to the battlements. She had planned on taking a shortcut through Cullen’s office to Solas’ solar and then to her private chambers, but the voice stilled her as she made her way up. It happened to be Commander Cullen behind her, probably making his own way to his office from… wherever he happened to be coming from.

“Commander, you’re out late.” She commented, waiting from the ex-templar as he finally made his way up to her. He gave her a small laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he came to stand next to her.

“As are you, my lady.” Red snorted at the title, one she hadn’t held since she was a child – not that she could tell Cullen, of course. “What has kept you up so late? Hopefully nothing too dreadful.”

“Thanks for your concern, Commander, but I was merely out for a walk. The night air is quite refreshing, if you haven’t noticed.” The smile she gave him didn’t quite meet her eyes, but either Cullen didn’t notice or gave her the curtesy of not mentioning it. He motioned her to continue forward, and the two walked side-by-side back up to his office. “What are _you_ doing out so late, serah? Normally the war room meetings aren’t held at such a late hour.”

“Ambassador Montilyet and Lady Leliana warranted further discussion following our meeting with the Inquisitor and I am just returning to my quarters for the night.” The two made it to the top of the stairs with Cullen opening the door for Red, giving the mage a small smile as he followed her into the still-messy office. He had papers and orders scattered about on his desk, the books on his shelves in disarray. It was quite a scene, but when was it not?

“You’ve been busy, ser.”

“Well, yes, it’s been quite an adventure the last few months, as you know. It seems we stay up later and later, and we awake earlier and earlier with each morning.” The Commander released a sigh, leaning against his desk as Red leaned against one of the pillars in his quarters. “Though I’m sure it’s not nearly as easy for you, someone’s who’s misunderstood by the majority here.” Raleigh let her eyebrows fall together, letting her crossed arms rest over her midsection.

“I guess it’s not as easy to hide when everyone’s pointing fingers.”

“Even someone as busy as myself notices when a person who goes out of their way to help only receives criticism and hurtful looks. I’m busy, not blind.” Raleigh clicked her tongue lightly at Cullen’s words.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Commander. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” Cullen let out a chuckle at that, letting his hand return to the back of his neck once more.

“I suppose I shouldn’t keep you from getting some rest. Do you want me to escort you back to your chambers?” The dark-haired girl couldn’t help the small smile that reached her lips, standing straight from the pillar and letting her arms drop to her sides.

“I’m a big girl, Commander. But I thank you for your concern.” He knew that she meant more than what she said, but he simply offered her a nod as she made her way out of his office.

Raleigh let the heavy door close behind her with a soft _thud_ , leaning against the wood with an escaped breath. She looked up to the dark, starry sky with a smile, thinking on the Commander’s concern and the slowly bettering future in front of her.

Maker, she was damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next installment: travels (a new companion)
> 
> I have a tumblr! (cupycakefrosting.tumblr.com)


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